#he OFFERED to SHARE his FUCKING UMBRELLA

[fridayyy-13th]

i am the world's biggest gayest idiot having the biggest gayest crisis right now

[cherrychilli]

18+ Perv! Steve Harrington x Perv! reader, F reader, friends to lovers, scent kink, reader being a bit of a creep but Steve's into it because duh, masturbation (f) sexual acts in public, mentions of and allusions to oral sex (f)

WC: 5K

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but fuck it. Two for one special. Still feeling rusty when it comes to writing so go easy on me, yeah? Also, this one's kind of gross at times. Just a little bit. Nothing extreme but just letting you know incase you're someone who gets squeamish easily. Enjoy!

The hair? sure. Everyone liked his hair.

People usually fell into two camps when it came to Steve Harrington's signature do; either they envied it or they hoped to be one of the lucky ones who got to run their fingers through it.

You used to daydream about the latter when you only knew him from afar but now that he no longer ran with a particular kind of crowd, now that he's just Steve and no longer the King, you managed to get close enough to find out that he smelled nice too.

Really nice.

So, figuring out that he used women's shampoo shouldn't have been the revelation that it was because it made so much sense, his tresses never scented with a wintry pine or spicy cedarwood like most scent profiles marketed to men.

You had your friends to thank for your stumbling upon that discovery, the group of them arriving at your home to bully you out of your PJ's and into a pair of jeans and shoes, uprooting you from your room on a Saturday afternoon for an outing to the fancy part of the mall.

While they searched for new make-up, you wandered a section of the store by yourself, uncapping the pretty bottles in the hair care aisle whenever the sales assistants' attention wandered elsewhere, squeezing each one carefully to sample the array of scents. You did this idly and with no real plans to purchase anything, just something to pass the time while your friends crowded another display a few aisles away, chattering blissfully and swatching lipsticks.

Picking up a fifth shampoo from the lineup of bottles, you brought the uncapped rim up to your face, lightly skimming your cupids bow with it as you gently inhaled. While fun, you'd spent most of your time at the mall feeling a little bored, a small part of you still desiring to go back home where you could lounge and laze in peace. That was until you began to recognize the scent of the newest shampoo you had clutched in your hand, the familiarity of it triggering a whirlpool of memories.

In seconds, your mind plunged back to the night of Jack Sullivan's graduation party. The first time Steve Harrington had spoken to you – really spoken to you since he’d parted ways with Carol and Tommy, seeming much more approachable than he had in the past.

The two of you had ended up sharing the patio swing outside where the air wasn't as thick with smoke and the smell of spilled booze. Making conversation, he offered you a beer he'd originally intended to give Robin before she'd slipped away into one of the guest bathrooms with your best friend Sally. You both knew why, sharing a look of understanding but never mentioning the obvious out loud out of loyalty to your friends.

Then there was the only day it rained in July, remembering the way your fingers brushed against his as you handed him your umbrella. You'd discovered him taking refuge under the awning of the diner you worked at that morning, face twisted all worrisome as he looked up from his wristwatch to the downpour in front of him, forced into walking to work that day due to his car still being in the shop. The only light that shone that day was the gleaming smile he gave you when he thanked you for your kindness.

And then there was the time when you had your head down while scanning a tape at Family Video, bumping face first into Steve's chest when you rounded the corner, his name tag catching on your bottom lip. It was the tiniest sliver of a cut, barely noticeable or painful but oh, how he fussed over you like you were made of porcelain. He’d gone so far as to sit you down on his chair behind the counter as if you might collapse from blood loss at any moment, whizzing into the break room and back with a fist full of napkins to dab the miniscule wound that had already stopped bleeding.

All of those memories and more linked by one scent. This scent.

With your pupils dilating like a cat prepared to pounce, you flipped the bottle over to read the contents.

White frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, bergamot waters, sea salt breeze and sunkissed musk.

Steve Harrington in a bottle. And the quickest 16 dollars you've ever spent.

And with that purchase came the self-imposed reminder to exercise caution. Upon leaving the mall with your friends, your mood much chipper than when you'd arrived, you made sure to hardly ever use the shampoo when you bathed, afraid that if Steve smelled it on you later, somehow, he'd be able to put the pieces together and know why you'd bought it, even as wildly unlikely as that seemed.

So instead, you huffed the bottle in private on most days, only using it when you knew you'd be spending the day at home. On those eagerly awaited days you luxuriated in the scent as you applied the shampoo in your shower, mind and fingers wandering, working your peaked nipples and your firm clit up to the thought of Steve joining you in your shower and fucking you dumb – tits pressed up against the cold, wet tiles, ass bouncing on his hips as he stretched you open and used you well.

But now that you'd discovered this new kind of hunger you had to make sure to keep it well fed and when the shampoo didn't feel like enough anymore, you set out to purchase his cologne.

The scent was one you had memorized from all of your trips to the video store, hanging around the counter while Steve talked to you about which movie you ought to rent next. You could smell it on his neck whenever he leaned in close on his elbows, face inches away from yours, wishing he'd close the distance and meet your lips with his.

Another trip to the mall had you scouring the men's section like a wolf tracking the scent of injured prey, sampling bottle after bottle of cologne until you found it.

Aromatic sage, dark tonka bean and rich sandalwood. Priced at a cool $39.50 which you gladly forked over because to you, it was all money well spent.

The cologne became part of your nightly routine after that, dabbing drops of the heady scent on your body when you went to bed, the smell making your arousal climb before lulling you to sleep an orgasm later, evoking dreams of Steve throughout the night that made you wake up to your panties all damp and sticking to your core by morning.

You were content that way, the shampoo and the cologne enough to satiate your fixation on the way Steve smelled all while managing to maintain your friendship with him without things becoming weird.

What ended up shattering that peace however was running into him a few weeks later coming out of the Y, just done with a game of basketball as he spotted you passing by and happily waved you down.

He smiled at you just as brightly as he had all those months ago in July, this time dressed in his gym clothes; a pair of green shorts that showed off the thickness of his toned, hairy thighs and a grey t-shirt, the sleeves filled out well by his tanned biceps and its collar darkened by sweat.

Up close, you could smell the exertion on him and that was what became your undoing.

It took every iota of self-control not to rush him to the ground and pin him beneath you, feeling more and more like a caged animal the longer the conversation went on and you were forced to compose yourself.

It was the kind of scent you wanted to sink into, more so than the cologne or the shampoo because this was Steve completely unadulterated – that earthy musk, that rugged, almost spicy all-natural scent that you wouldn't be able to find on any shelf.

Barely managing to hold it together until parting ways with him, you knew you wouldn't be able to rest without it, mind already working to devise a plan.

~

"Risve- what?"

You chuckled as the word died on Steve's tongue, knowing he'd trip up on the pronunciation. Reaching for a pen and a scrap of paper sitting on the counter, you wrote the word down for him. "Risvegli. It's Italian", you explain, handing it to him as you do your best to repress the shiver that runs through you when his slender fingers graze yours, trying hard to quieten your mind after all the ways you’ve imagined those very fingers touching you in your most sensitive places.

"It's kind of an obscure flick but I like that sort of stuff. D'you think you could have a look and see if you've got a copy in the back?", you try not to bat your lashes too much when you ask, not wanting to overplay the sweetness to the point that it comes off as insincere or worse, suspicious.

Steve looks down to study the paper, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, you can’t help but notice. The ends of his hair are still damp from his shower at the Y, just as you expected now that you knew which days he spent there before clocking in for work.

"For you? Definitely", he looked back up and smiled at you in that way that made your heart somersault. "Be right back". He leaves you alone at the counter and you make sure to wait for him to disappear out of sight into the back, stamping down a flash of guilt for having sent him off to search for a movie that didn't exist to buy you time.

You'd planned it all last night, stepping away from the counter before heading towards the employee break room, able to sneak in without fear of running into Robin because you knew she'd be spending the day with Sally on her day off from working at the diner.

Steve’s duffle bag is in plain view as you shut the door to the little room behind you quietly, resting on a chair that'd been pulled out from the table where you imagined he probably shared his lunch breaks with Robin.

Striding up to it, you find the zipper and tentatively, you pull it open to reveal the contents. What you're looking for is balled up at the very top, picking up the sweat damp t-shirt with clammy, trembling fingers. You're really crossing a line this time and you know it, your teeth close to piercing the soft skin of your bottom lip as you bite down on it but you can't deny that there's just something so exhilarating about the whole thing too. The lying, the sneaking around, the risk – it's all a little too much and your mind grows foggy with it, dulling your once sharp intuition and giving way to a moment of weakness that has you abandoning caution now that you're alone.

Waiting to do indulge your urges until you're safe at home feels impossible now that you've got your hands on it, eagerly pressing your nose into the damp t-shirt, eyes nearly rolling back as you filled your lungs with the smell of him. It must have been the pheromones, it had to be, awakening that primal kind of desire in you that had you parting your lips and pressing the tip of your tongue to one of the sweat stains, sucking on the sour, salty musk that had soaked into the cotton.

What you're doing is so dirty, damn near repulsive and knowing that just fuels you even more as you begin to salivate. You're too wrapped up in the earthy scent of him, too lost in the taste to notice when the door handle jiggles behind you, too drunk on the sick thought of what Steve’s used boxers must smell like if you were to pull those out of his duffle next when all of a sudden, it's too late.

The door to the break room swings open and in walks Steve, the world screeching to a sickening standstill when his eyes fall on you.

Your own eyes bulging, you watch in mute horror as he takes in the sight before him, the scrap of paper you'd handed him earlier slipping from between his thumb and forefinger, fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dying butterfly.

It's impossible to know what he's thinking. Is it disgust? if so, he hid it well. Bewilderment? You weren't sure. Ice crackles over your bones as the two of you stare for a few seconds longer, Steve's expression still unreadable.

The whole thing's all the more uncomfortable because of the way he continues to watch you like you’re something to be studied, looking contemplative as you trembled in place, wishing for the ground to break open beneath your feet and swallow you away into a never-ending crevasse.

But as the seconds tick by and the ground stays perfectly intact you're left to seek your own respite.

Despite what feels like the blood retreating from your veins, your body shifts into auto pilot as you wordlessly place the rumpled t-shirt back in Steve's duffel and do the only thing you can do in a fucked up situation like this – walk away. Even as he tries to call after you, you ignore his shouts, continuing on a path towards and out the exit, mortified.

You don't go back to Family Video after that. In fact, you avoid that entire street for a whole week.

The days following being caught out by Steve were some of the worst you've had to endure. Shame made a home in your body, making you ache with a belly full of thorns and your thoughts growing increasingly heavy and abrasive as they flood your throbbing head.

For those seven days you carried around the dread of knowing that Steve had discovered that secret side of you, the feeling worsening at the thought of him telling others what he had seen and rendering you some kind of town pariah – even though a tiny, hopeful whisper inside your raucous head told you that he probably hadn't said anything, at least not yet since Sally hadn't even seemed to have gotten word of the incident from Robin.

But that's all it was. A tiny, fleeting whisper that did nothing to calm you.

At home, you buried yourself in your blankets, letting your anxieties exhaust you to sleep and at work you moved as if you were fighting your way through thick slurry – slow and dragging your body from table to table, unsmiling as you took patrons' meal orders and served them their food.

You continued like that all throughout your shift, waiting for the moment you could peel your polyester uniform off in favour of your own clothes and drive yourself home. With only 30 minutes left before closing, your shoulders which had been pulled tight all day with tension began to sag, a momentary wash of relief coursing through you. That was until you smelled it – smelled him.

Whipping around, your stomach plummets when your eyes fall on Steve walking through the door – and to make things worse, he’s carrying that duffle on his shoulder.

He's yet to have spotted you, taking a seat at one of the empty booths though you notice the way his eyes are scanning the diner, searching.

It's obvious that you’re the one he’s looking for as worry courses down your spine like a lightning strike. Was he going to confront you? right here? in front of all these people? Normally you wouldn’t peg Steve as someone who’d do something so cruel but after what he’d caught you doing, a little public humiliation doesn’t seem all that undeserved, you had to admit.

So, carefully you retreat into the breakroom without drawing his attention, pulling a perplexed Sally along with you once you'd caught hold of her by her elbow.

Once safely inside, you all but blubber in her face, begging her to wait on Steve's table, even promising her all your tips for the next week in exchange.

Seeing the distress contorting your face must have made her feel sorry for you because she pulls you in for a quick, tight hug, running her hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you. You'd only given her little snippets of what had happened at the video store, making sure to alter a few details for the sake of concealing how far you’d actually gone that day. To her, the gist of it was that you'd embarrassed yourself horribly and that was all she really needed to know, springing into action as the compassionate best friend to the rescue.

"I've got it, okay? just breathe", she'd repeated soothingly into your hair, giving you a quick squeeze and her best reassuring smile before you reluctantly unwind your hands from around her, allowing her to step out of the break room ahead of you.

Outside again, thirty minutes drag on like hours while you purposely stick to the part of the diner that's furthest away from Steve's table. You don't dare look at him but you do sneak a glance when Sally walks by with his order, a single black coffee and nothing else which he sips leisurely while you tremble.

If his plan was to confront you then what the hell was he waiting for? There was nothing stopping him from walking up to you while sweat collects between your shoulder blades as you clear the tables of customers who’ve settled their bill and since left. Nothing to prevent him from stepping up to the counter while you nervously rubbed the surface of it free of crumbs and stains to demand an explanation for your bizarre behavior last week. Nothing to stop him from simply walking up to you at any moment and ask to know what the fuck your deal was.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he finishes his coffee and casually waves down Sally for the bill while smiling politely. Somehow that causes you even more unease.

In that moment you lose sight of Steve when you’re called over to serve the only other table of customers left, a family of five keen to fit in one last round of milkshakes before they call an end to their meal.

You see to their order despite your shaking limbs, returning with a tray crowded with the cold, sweet drinks, setting each one down carefully in front of the smiling children and their parents before you head back behind the counter with your tray clutched close to your chest. The whole thing must have taken you ten minutes and when you sneak one more look in Steve’s direction you find his booth empty this time.

Eyes frantically searching the diner, you manage to catch a final glimpse of him walking out the front door, bell chiming above him as he departs, leaving the diner and you with even more questions than you had when he'd first arrived.  

Had Steve changed his mind? Had he just wanted to make you sweat for the hell of it? Taken pleasure in watching you try to keep it together in his presence while you traipsed around the diner all too carefully like a petrified newborn deer?

Why had he shown up at all today if he wasn’t going to...do anything?

You get your answer fifteen minutes later when wearily, you trudge into the staff room at the end of your shift, pulling open your locker and all but fainting at the sight of what’s been placed inside beside your belongings.

Neatly folded inside is Steve's grey t-shirt, the same one you'd tried unsuccessfully to "borrow" last week The scent of him is instantly recognizable as you inhale shakily, fingers reaching out to touch the slightly damp cotton to confirm to yourself that you weren’t in fact hallucinating the whole thing.

When your pulse starts to settle and the static crackling in your ears starts to cease you notice a little scrap of folded paper placed inside too. Picking it up and pulling it open, it's with a deep, dreamy sigh that your chest blooms with sunny warmth as you read the note, a smile gracing your lips for the first time in a week.

Three months later...

The only good thing about working the graveyard shift at the diner was that Steve always insisted on coming in an hour before you clocked out so he could drive you home.

Occupying one of the booths inside the sleepy diner, he'd keep himself busy with his phone while you worked, perking up whenever you came by to freshen up his coffee or sneak him a piece of pie he hadn't ordered with all his favorite fixings.

It was during those moments that he liked to have a little fun with you, quickly surveying the room to make sure no customers or staff were looking over in your direction before he'd slip his fingers under your skirt and pinch your ass. Sometimes you'd see it coming and other times he'd catch you off guard, cruel delight curling his lips into a smirk whenever you had to stifle your surprised squeals.

And that's as far as he usually took, patiently waiting until he could get you in his car for more but today felt different.

With no new customers coming in in the last two hours, Sally had taken to the break room to work in a nap while the kitchen staff had stepped out back to smoke and deal cards to pass the time. That left just you working the front with Steve as the diner's only patron.

Having no one else around meant you could flirt freely with him now, making sure to look over your shoulder every now and then just incase to make sure you didn't get caught.

You spent that time alone together with his boot gently tapping against your shoe under the table, reaching out and fiddling with his fingers because you always liked to be touching him while you happily teased each other as the minutes passed by.

Somewhere in the middle of your playful banter you noticed Steve's cup was now empty, picking yourself up from the booth to bring over more coffee. As you leaned over the edge of the table to pour, you anticipated the glide of his fingers on your thigh, inching up your skirt to situate them between your legs.

"You're going to get me fired one of these days", you chide him, still holding on to the pot of coffee once you'd finished refilling his cup.

"Good – then I can have you all to myself", he teased back, index finger drawing patterns on your inner thigh, just a few inches below the lacy trim of your panties.

"Steve", you attempt to scold but there's barely any heat there for him to take it seriously, fingers daring to trail higher.

Meeting his heavy gaze, you watch him search your eyes for a moment, the soft smirk that had been tugging at the corner of his lips slowly fading away as something more serious clouds his expression when he leans forward to whisper to you.

"No one's around, baby. Please? Can I?"

It takes you a second before you know exactly what he's asking for without needing him to specify, heat rising up from the depths of your chest and gathering in your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes too and you know that this is what it must have looked like the day he caught you with your face buried in his sweaty t-shirt. That feverish glint of potent want making his iris' gleam.

"Steve, it's too risky", you try to reason quietly despite the way your thighs are already parting for him, allowing him to skim the pads of his fingers over the seat of your panties, teasing your waiting folds through the thin later of fabric.

"Never stopped you before", he's quick to reply with wink, making you grow warmer at the reminder.

He's got you beat there.

"I promise I'll be quick", he pleads again softly and it's almost comical how quickly you buckle under the weight of his needy gaze.

"Shit, okay", you concede as you step closer to the edge of the booth and he pulls himself closer too, hand moving higher to cup your ass under your skirt.

You sigh contently when Steve leans forward and presses his nose against the front of your uniform, right over the juncture between your legs. You're careful to keep your grip tight on the handle of the coffee pot you're still carrying when he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent right through your clothes.

Steve liked to joke that you brought out this side of him, the one that made the both of you realize how alike you really were.

It started with the way he liked to linger between your legs after he'd finished eating you out. Your ruined panties spilled out of his back pocket, never to be returned to you as he took his time pressing sweet kisses against your swollen folds and spent clit with his sticky lips, clearly pleased with himself as you fought to catch your breath from the orgasm that'd rippled through you.

And as things progressed, he wasn't secretive about wanting to fuck you so hard and often that the smell of you would linger in the air long after you were done. Or how he liked to nestle his nose in the curls on your mound once he'd finished laving at your pussy – the moreish combination of sweat, saliva and your natural musk making his twitching cock stiffen all over again as he rut into the mattress for a second time, painting his sticky boxers with another generous load.

Other times he'd get on his knees for you, pulling you close by your hips so he could place his face against your clothed cunt and mumble dreamy praises about how good your pussy smelled. And you always loved it when he got like that, even now as your free hand strokes lazily through his caramel hair, letting him do this to you in the middle of your place of work, your coworkers unaware but not far away enough that they couldn't walk in at any moment and find the two of you like this.

"Stevie", you whined softly as you tried to get his attention, a reluctant reminder that the two of you should probably stop before it's too late.

"Jus' a little more, please? need it to tide me over before I can get you alone". His eyes are all glazed over when he looks up at you, tentatively slipping his other hand up the front of your thigh to hitch up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, his gaze all pleading as he waits for your permission.

With the way he's managed to work you up, your panties more that a little tacky from his attention and your belly tightening with warmth, how could you possibly refuse when you needed this just as badly as he did?

"Fuck. Yes, okay – just be careful", you urge gently because 'be quick' doesn't seem likely anymore.

A look of pure bliss breaks out on his reddening face. "Christ. Thank you, baby", Steve groans appreciatively, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties before burying his face against your clothed mound. He can feel the outline of your cunt perfectly when he's this close – so soft and plump, his mounting greed has him battling the urge to pull the soaked cotton down to your knees and start sucking the tangy slick from your pretty, swollen pussy lips before pressing deeper to lick at your tight hole and all it has to offer.

Restraining himself, he lets out a muffled moan against your core that has your clit swelling and throbbing, your eyes slipping shut while you give yourself to him. It's almost soothing the way he savors you so shamelessly, head partially ducked underneath your rucked up skirt, fingers gently squeezing your ass with his blunt nails making light indents in your skin.

You let him breathe you in for a while longer until you begin to feel a little floaty and more than a little needy from it all, expecting Steve to pull away soon because how much longer could you get away with doing this in public? Stopping him isn't what you want, not really but you knew better than to push your luck by now.

But instead of him reluctantly withdrawing away from you, what you feel next is the wet drag of his tongue along your messy panties, warm, firm and sudden.

Although definitely not unwelcome, under the circumstances, the feeling of it startles you and you can't help but cry out with a yelp, arm jerking backwards as a splash of coffee makes its way onto the checkered diner floor.

Hearts hammering, the both of you rip apart from each other then, Steve with his wide eyes and ruffled hair as he plasters himself to his seat while you very nearly lose what's left of your balance when your shoes skid over the wet mess of spilled coffee. You manage to catch yourself though when you grab the edge of his table with your free hand, finally placing the damn coffee pot down to hurriedly pull your skirt back into place.

Silence overtakes the room as the both of you peer wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen and breakroom, waiting to see if you'd accidentally drawn the attention of any nearby diner staff.

Seconds turn into a minute and when no one comes through either of the doors you allow yourself to sigh out in relief, turning back to Steve.

"Shit. I'm sorry I couldn't help it – had to taste you, honey. You just – fuck, you just smell so fucking good. I needed a little more", he tries to explain when your eyes connect, his cheeks sheened with a thin layer of perspiration and flushed a deep pink.

You were foolish to think you could let him do all of that and endure waiting until the end of your shift to take things further in his car. Leaving him with his lips parted and his jaw slack, you stride away to the diner's entrance to quickly flip the 'open' sign over to read 'closed', rushing back to tug Steve up and out of his seat urgently, grinning when you catch sight of the stiff bulge straining in his jeans.

"Supply closet. Now. Need you to put that mouth of yours to good use."

[writteninkat]

What made you fall for these MHA men?

w/ Bakugou, Kirishima, Midoriya, Todoroki, Kaminari

warnings: none, just some good ol' fluff

a/n: idk man i feel like most people(me) goes straight to the fucking stage and skips the adorable crush stage

navigation

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

this man is so fucking smart it turns you to goo

whenever you're having trouble with schoolworks/projects/assignments, you sit yourself next to him just to get the work done fast (and he smells and looks good so plus points ig)

find long math problems difficult? mans will take one look at it and immediately start scribbling. probably witchcraft, you don't know.

one moment you're complaining to mina about how your teacher can suck dick after giving you the assigment, the next katsuki has the answer in a box

chemistry problems? mans has the entire table memorized.

history? which one? japanese? american? french?

ah, he also butts in your conversations whenever you get the date wrong.

yeah he teaches you stuff you're having trouble understanding, but he will yell the entire time.

yeah, he teaches the topics worlds better than the teacher ever could but at the cost of your hearing

seeing his name listed along the top students with high marks has you inspired to do just as better as him

you tried confessing by giving him a love letter and he returned it to you with corrections TT (and a note that said: rewrite this and read it to me in person, then I'll take you out for some ramen)

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

he's the sweetest ever, who wouldn't fall for him?

you're having terrible period cramps? this man will have a 'period aid box' filled with sweets, sanitary products, pain relievers, a heating pad, and more of your favorite things delivered to your door

it's pouring and you forgot your umbrella?

if he has an umbrella: will obv share it with you and doesn't care if half his body gets drenched, what matters is you're dry

no umbrella: takes off his uniform jacket/vest and drapes it over you. you'll end up damp but hey, he tried his best

whenever there's a new place, (restaurant, fair, amusement park, etc.) you're the first one he's asking to join him. and you always go. and he always pays.

hurt yourself? scraped a knee, got a bruise, muscle ache? he has a first aid pouch in his bag just for you

always walks you to class, always struggles with you when doing homework, always brings you your favorite food/drink

problem? he does all of this and will still call you a 'friend'. 'best friend' if you're lucky.

yeah, this adorable boy has no idea all the shit he does has you falling head over heels in love for him

IZUKU MIDORIYA

the way he's so passionate about what he loves, then catches himself being so open about it, then blushes, has you swooning

it was a normal day when you asked him about all might. you ended up listening to him for two hours ranting and sharing

you thought, 'how cute.' and then remembered you had piles of homework to do. and then he offered to help you with them while still talking about all might

he's also incredible passionate about being a hero

the way he talks about keeping the weak and needy safe has your heart clenching

whenever you get hurt during quirk training? he drops everything to take you to the nurse

feel insecure about yourself? he goes on a never ending tangent about how you're enough and how amazing you are

whenever you feel like you aren't gonna reach a goal, he's right there to pump you back up

whenever you tease him about being handsome or cute, he gets all flushed and shy, he makes you wanna just nibble on his cheeks!

problem here? he does that with everyone.

he's an inherintly good person, so you can't blame him for it, you can only blame yourself for thinking you were special to him.

or are you?

SHOTO TODOROKI

you're a yapper. you're running your mouth twenty four-seven. and twenty four hours every day, he listens. quietly.

at first you thought he was just ignoring you, but he brings up what you babbled about from time to time.

you talked about your mom being in the hospital. the next day, your mom's calling you to tell 'your classmate i said thank you for the fruits'.

mmhmm. he gave your mom fruits as a 'get well soon' gift.

shoto listens to every word you say, even when you don't realize you're saying them

"i heard the smoothie at that new diner was good." next day, there's a take out smoothie on your desk

"remind me to get pads tomorrow." your desk is filled with every single kind of sanitary product you could think of, from wings, non wings, long, dry, thick, thin, day, night.

"does anybody have an extra pen-" he places his pencil case on your table.

you don't even have to ask him and he's already working on getting you whatever you want. swoon.

another thing that made you fall? he'll let you do anything to him

class is boring and you wanna draw? he'll give you his hands

wanna practice some hairstyles? his hair is incredibly soft and tame for that.

how about make up looks? wanna practice that? he's sitting cross legged on the floor of your dorm as you brush on whatever color on his face

he's totally fine with letting you do whatever you want. and you wanna know the best part? he only lets you do it.

DENKI KAMINARI

this man cracks you up with no fail

the way denki's so easy to talk to and have fun with makes you feel so safe and secure

he's got every kind of humor in his chamber

dad jokes? "what did the blanket say as it fell off the bed? oh sheet!"

corny jokes? "how many lips does a flower have? tu-lips."

dark humor? "why can't orphans play baseball? cause they don't know where home is!"

yeah- the last one you two whisper to each other during class and get sent out of the room for laughing too loud

you don't remember a day where you spent with him and you weren't laughing. you just feel so light and happy, he's like a drug to you

this dynamic between the both of you confuses people. some look at the both of you and think you're a duo misfit who constantly gets called out during class, and some give you teasing looks

when you started to notice these feelings for him, you couldn't help but grin at the thought of marrying your best friend.

what made you really feel for him though?

when you were sick for a day, your classmates came back to the dorms begging you to fet better quickly cause apparently the room was depressing

even katsuki cursed you out for being sick

apparently denki's mood affected everybody. and that mood was-

"today was tiring without you there." denki sighs, staring at nothing while the heat of his body beside you comforts you completely. it's always like this with him- warm, peaceful, happy.

"awe, did you miss me you big baby?" you tease, poking his side.

denki turns his head towards you, eyes holding a million words he wants to say, but for some reason, can't.

"i did." his eyes trail down your nose and to your lips. "so much."

your lips part, heart about to beat out of your rib cage. your mouth feels dry and you can't help the desire to tell him everything you feel for him- but you can't. you don't wanna risk ruining your friendship.

"yellow," he calls. ever since you laughed at his joke for the first time, he's been calling you yellow. he says your laugh magically brightens the room, the sight of your smile lifting the heaviness on his shoulder. "smile for me?"

and you do.

and he does.

and you know you're extraordinarily, remarkably, so very fucked when it comes to this man.

[palmtreesx3]

Deeper for You

Summary: (5.1 k) It's your annual beach trip with the crew from Hawkins, something you've all been doing together your whole adult life after life forced everyone to part ways. You're all close, but this year, an accidental encounter in the outdoor shower makes you get a little closer with one person in particular.

This is self indulgence at its finest. Fresh off my last week at the beach this summer, I needed a little Beach Steve in my life to tide me over.

Steve x Reader, NSFW 18+ Accidental exposure, friends to lovers, breast play, female oral, fingering, dirty talk encouraged, a little orgasm denial, maybe a spank and unprotected intercourse in the shower.

Crystal water. Crystal skies. Beach chairs circled around umbrellas and coolers. Crisp beers slipped in aging koozies and passed around like old times. You and your friends have been doing this for years. Ever since goals and lives and even some wives have taken the group here and there, Nancy started organizing this annual beach trip for the group from Hawkins. Years and miles have nothing on deep seeded trauma, she said once, in a too cheerful voice despite it's truth.

The heat of the sand between your toes and the smell of suntan lotion have become a comfort to you, just knowing you're back there with your closest friends. As you all creep closer to thirty than you'd like, this week never fails to make you feel nostalgic, youthful and forget all of your problems because it never feels like an ounce of time has passed with any of these people.

This year Nancy had to upgrade the rental - more rooms for yet another married couple in the mix, Eddie adding a wife - a little too sweet but just enough sass for him - into the fold. It was your first time meeting her, really meeting her, because no bride has the time for new friendship on their wedding weekend, and you've had such a nice week spending time with her. Chairs in the sand by the waterline together with a book most afternoons, leaving the raucous energy that comes after some morning beers as background noise to your fantasies.

"What are you two ladies reading over here anyway" Steve pokes at your shoulder on his way down to the water to cool off.

"They're fantasy novels, Steve. Naughty books, if you must know." You tease back, Eddies wife blushing beside you at your brazen honestly.

"Naughty books? Like love stories where they kiss and share a bed?"

"No Steve, like '... And then she felt the tips of his finger circle her clit before toying with her folds and the wetness pooling between her thighs. Edging her, pulling her closer but never giving her cunt what she really wants'" you read in an exaggerated and breathy voice direct from your page, picking up right where you left off. "That, Steve, is Naughty Books. "

"Shit. Okay. Well I'll leave you two to it, then. What the fuck." and he trots off into the waves. Sunkissed skin a perfect contrast to the white, foaming waves he's now floating in.

"So, that… you guys have a thing before or something?" Eddie's wife asks softly. So sweet, you can't even be mad at her for it.

"Steve?" You laugh, "No-no no. Just go way back "

"Oh I'm so sorry" she squeaks out, "I just thought… I mean you guys. Nevermind."

"Don't worry about it. We're all a little too close for comfort sometimes. I get it. We just have always gave each other shit as long as I've known him, that's all."

Later that night, the whole group gathers in the back of the house around a huge built in fire pit, all taking turns sharing, giving updates about life and work and families.

Late nights have been happening all week around this pit, but tonight is cool, and the Sangria Robin and Max mixed up is keeping you chilled.

"Hey, honey. You finally quit or do you want to join us over here?" Steve calls over to you, beckoning to the group of smokers over on the bench seat to the left of the fire.

"Every time I try… someone like you offers me a smoke and here I am again." You shrug as you lean over to snag the pack of cigarettes from Steve's outstretched hand before taking a seat. You slide out a slim cigarette and pull the lighter from it's spot in the back, lighting up and passing it back, kicking your feet out on the coffee table in front.

"Someone like Steve, what's that supposed to mean? You hurling insults again?" Johnathan teases.

"No, no. Byers, shut the fuck up. Lemme enjoy this sweet nicotine with my friends in peace, okay?" You roll your eyes, not actually knowing what you meant either, before shooting a look at Max sitting with the group. "Since when did you sit on the smokers bench? Huh?"

"Don't start with me mom. You've tried to quit four times a year for the past 10 years, so I don't even wanna hear it from you." The redhead sasses back.

Such a beautiful, self assured young women she's grown into, despite having such poor eyesight from…everything that happened…you have always had a soft spot for Max, and she for you. The glasses she wears are thick, despite years of corrective surgeries, but they don't take an ounce away from how lovely she's grown to be.

"Yeah yeah, just shut up and enjoy it. I bet Lucas hates it. Doesn't he? Goodie two shoes." You quip back and Max giggles in agreement, both of you taking a long drag as a follow up.

"You two man-eaters are trouble." Steve jabs.

"Excuse me, man-eaters? The one who has been dating the same guy since middle school and me, who goes on what, maybe 4 dates all year? Yeah total man-eaters, Steve."

After finishing your smokes, you all rejoin the group, playing dollar games of cards and dice, laughing the night away at bad luck and bad jokes. El has been banished to watching over participating and when Eddie's wife asks why, the mutters and mumbling of a wide variety of excuses poured out.

"It's uh - against her religion!" straight from Dustin's mouth won out, mostly because it was the loudest. So now you're all pretending El is Muslim, and that's definitely not going to last the rest of the week.

It's nearing two am as you pad up the stairs, pockets 10 dollars deeper, sand still clinging to your feet just barely and Steve's button up on your shoulders from when he passed it to you to quell your chill. Just like every other night of the trip, you sleep like a baby, tucked in a soft mattress with softer sheets and the blanket of a decent buzz still coursing through your bloodstream.

The next day is the last on the shore and after a late start and breakfast cooked up by Nancy and Johnathan to sop up the hangovers the day goes on much like the rest before it. Relaxing in beach chairs and blankets, music softly humming from a boom box in the shade of the umbrella, balls being tossed in a friendly game of touch football in the loose sand by the dunes.

The tide was rough today and swept you and Eddie's girl away on your chairs once before you slipped your books back in your beach bag and decided if you can't beat it, join it. Frolicking in the waves together, the rest of the group is shortly behind you joining in.

It's not five minutes until Eddie is tackling his wife into the crashing waves, rolling her dramatically in the lapping waves and sand. Max and El are jumping through crashing waves, hand in hand trying to make it past the crest and to where it is calm. Some of the boys are sitting in the sand watching and enjoying the cool breeze you catch when you're closer to the sea.

You, well, you were enjoying yourself wholeheartedly. That is until you're making your way back to shore and a huge wave creeps up behind you and slams you to the ground. Water currents tossing you around a bit like a ragdoll, it's a moment before strong arms pull you up and out, wiping your hair out of your face and brushing the wet globs of sand off you as you regroup. It's Steve who's got you and brings you back to shore, where you flop down on the sand together and burst out in laughter after you're both sure that you're alright, making it even harder to catch your breath.

The day at the beach was way more sandy than usual because of it all, sitting in the sand, being thrown around by gritty waves and soupy sand finding it's way intermingling with your bathing suit. You just can't wait till the end of the day to shower and hose off, so you dip away to hop in the rinse shower along the side of the property. Door swung shut, you run the water cold so it's as refreshing as it is a welcome rinse to your body where the sand is sticking and scratches.

Hair slicked back by the cool droplets, you're realizing quickly that a simple rinse won't rid your swimsuit of all of the caked in sand. Maneuvering your emerald green one piece to shake free the grit of the ocean, you're making progress as you drop your wide set straps off your shoulders and start working out the sand from your upper half.

It's just then that Steve must have had the same idea, and he's traipsing through the door of the shower himself, only to find you, strap down, left breast fully exposed, tan lines of your right crisp and leaving nothing to the imagination the way the suit is bunching down, and your hands coaxing the water over them from the low pressure showerhead to work off the sand.

"Holy fuck!" You both yell at the same time.

Yours an exclamation. A "Holy FUCK!" A barked out reaction to the surprise. The admonishment of your friend who doesn't seem to pay a goddamn mind to anything going on around him or he would have heard the shower tap on and running when he approached.

But his… Well, his was a statement. A "Holy. Fuck." Drawn out. A deep and gravely comment made to acknowledge the surprise he's found. More of an interest than an intrusion.

So when you reached to cover yourself and hide from embarrassment as a knee jerk reaction, he didn't make quite as quick a move to leave you be. He lingered, just enough for you to notice and under his breath whispered out again "Holy fuck."

Adequately covered, or at least enough that you can feel functional at this point, you look at him to quip "Are you just gonna stare or what?" And you expect him to snap out of his titty haze and leave you be to shake out the rest of your sand trap, but he doesn't.

Instead he asks, "Well, is that an invitation?"

Your eyes narrow at him, and he shrugs in reaction. "You can't be serious, Steve. Get outta here."

"I save you, and this is the thanks I get?" He teases, and you can't help but see how his eyes, blown out and black, don't move from your body when he says it.

"Steve." You say, quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I can thank you later." comes out just above a whisper.

"I think I'd rather you thanked me now."

When you don't argue back, or say anything for that matter, he takes that as enough of an answer as he needs. He knows you, and he knows that you have no problem telling someone to take a hike, so if you're not yelling at him like he's a small boy who got his hand caught in the cookie jar, he knows you're inviting him to take a bite.

So he's inside the shower quicker than your mind can even catch up to what's happening. He's crowding your space and reaching backwards to do the one thing you forgot to do yourself, hook the damn lock. You're pretty sure this man hasn't moved his eyes from you since the moment the door opened and at this point, you're meeting his gaze.

A sweeping hand, under your ear and landing on the nape of your neck is what shakes you out of your daze and before you know it his lips are on yours. It's a bruising thing, the way he presses them into yours, pulling you closer still by where his hand is cupping your head with his broad hand. You come up for air just a second before he backs off and you find yourself, open mouthed and smiling into his lips, still pressing into you. "Fuck. Honey. I- you okay? With this? I don't wanna… "

"I know I tell you this all the time, but this is different. Steve, you fuckin talk too much. Shut. Up." You say, emphasizing your words with two little tugs to his own hair where your hands have snaked around, too.

And he takes this welcome advance as an opportunity to wrap his other hand around you, up and under your arm, resting at the center of your back. Pressing together, you're so close. Impossibly so, and every little tick of the hip or twitch of the lips can be felt by the other instantaneously. He's testing you out but getting bolder by the second when he experimentally rolls his hips just a bit before coaxing your legs a bit wider to slot his knee in between. You gasp out at the feeling of him against you and involuntarily find yourself rolling your cunt against his thigh.

"Ah-oh fuck. Shit. Steve." You squeak out, as you look down to see that he's tucked up his swim shorts high enough that your grinding on his exposed thigh. Bristly hair on his legs commingling with the scratch of the sand and sea salt on your own thighs.

"C'mon, honey. You came in here to get clean. Me too. Lemme help you, yeah? '

Nodding your permission, he gently slips his fingers under the still loose straps of your suit, coaxing them down further, fingers ghosting over your arms as he works them down.

You've been doing this trip for years, and you swear the last thing you ever thought would happen was having Steve fucking Harrington peeling off your wet swimsuit in the shower. "You sandy all over, huh? Me too. Gotta rinse you off." he says, as he's reaching up for the shower head, detaching it from its base and bringing it down in between the two of your chests. Holding it there for a moment, he seems to consider this whole thing for the first time. "You-your good, right? I mean, I trust you. Do you trust me? "

"Yeah Steve, I do." You say, pressing your forehead to his and blinking away droplets gathering on your eyelashes.

He pulls the rest of your swimsuit away from where it's suctioned on your tummy and works it down your body, dropping heavy and wet on the shower floor. Once it's out of his way, he's back on your lips, sucking in your bottom lip just as you feel the cool water hitting your clit. Steve moves the shower head gently but purposely around your whole cunt, paying attention to your sensitive bud between passes through your folds. "Gotta get you cleaned up, huh? Need you clean for me. For what I'm gonna do next." He teases and you moan at his words.

Not exactly sure what he has planned just yet, you let him keep working your pussy clean and with every second of the pulsing jets of water hitting your clit rhythmically. "Yeah, baby I think you're all set." He states, replacing the shower head where it belongs and reaching his free hand down to rub through your folds, checking to be sure you're comfortable and free of that pesky sand.

When he's met with yet another whimper he's immediately dropping to his knees on the wet planks of the shower floor "Can I please, please taste you. Please."

"I didn't take you as one to beg, Harrington." You whisper out the tease.

"I will for this - for you. God, would you just answer me?"

You look down at him and nod but he wants your words instead, commanding you to speak up. And so you do, you gasp out confirmation just as his lips latch on to your already sensitive clit. He suckles there a little bit, before moving to make his tongue wide and flat coaxing noises from you that he doesn't want to forget the sound of.

He throws your thigh over his shoulder, giving him deeper, more angled access to your cunt, working you, moving it in and left to right. You cry out as his nose nudges at your clit while he slips a finger in up to his second knuckle and the cry turns silent as he keeps up his ministrations. Droplets of water are tickling down your chest and stomach, soaking his hair and face where he stays tucked in between your thighs. He shakes his head back and forth tapping at your clit with his movement and making you see stars.

Adding in another finger, he keeps lapping at your pussy, taking breaks to nip at the place where your thighs meet your sex and back again. He licks off a trail of water along the seam of your leg before making his way back to your center. Scissoring his fingers, he groans right into you and the vibration of it all drives you wild. "God, you fuckin taste like heaven. So good." And he dives back in, running his wide tongue along your entrance, drawing it front and upward toward your clit.

This time he pauses and presses his tongue up into the base of your clit, holding it there just as he presses both long fingers up and into your spongy spot, freeing the most wanton sound yet from deep within your throat. It spurs him on to keep going, pulsing that tongue and stroking that spot within. You're tensing and shaking under his strong grip and soft tongue, leg still hiked high over him, water cascading around the both of you. You're tumbling over the edge quickly after that.

In a bit of a daze and with wobbly knees, you swing your leg back down off his shoulder and bring him up towards you by his ears, wanting to taste yourself on his tongue in ways you never have before, and he looks beautiful like that. Eyes wide and wanton, hair dripping wet down his hair spattered chest, jaw slack in his own lust and pleasure, lips a deep pink and swollen from working you up down there. You bring him up fully to meet your lips and groan into his mouth, your taste heady and salty and beachy.

"I think you're clean" he laughs out as he pulls back just slightly and you can't help but bark out a laugh back. He takes the opportunity to latch on to your neck and bites at the skin under your ear.

In that moment you decide you're not done with him.

Tugging at the ties of his swim trunks, Steve pulls back to look at you. "N-no, we don't have to."

You hear his words but you also feel the hardness underneath those trunks, "Steve, it's - it's no big deal. You started this. Let me… let's finish, yeah?" You eye him teasingly, eyebrows raised, "Something tells me you want to."

"You're a menace, you know that right? Always have been."

"Yeah, but you're into it, apparently." you stand on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear.

"Fuck. Fuck. Yeah." He gets out as you lick the water droplets up "Seeing you here every year. Highlight of my trip. Swear to God."

And as his soaked trunks hit the floor, the pair of you are both fully exposed standing under the running water together. Running your hand along his chest, playing with the tufts of hair there, you hook your finger though the thin chain hanging from his neck and pull him closer. "Steve." You whisper into his mouth.

"Yeah, whaddya need, honey?"

"You. God just, please fuck me. Okay?"

Clutching you close by the waist, he hikes your leg up and around his hip, reaching down along your ass to rub at your pussy from behind, working you up again. Almost teasing. The rock hard length of him is pressed up between your two tummies, begging to be paid attention to, so you break your bodies apart for just a second to angle him down, slipping if wetly between your lower lips - a mix of water and your hot dripping slick letting him slip through your folds.

A whimper slips out of your lips as his head catches your clit and he takes the opportunity to press into you, sounds something like a growl falling from his own lips at the feeling. Your mind is going blank, but the one thing you're sure of is that Steve Harrington's dick is huge. "Ohmigod, you're, bi- oh" you moan as he adds another few inches, moving slowly for you. "Fuck, you're huge. Jesus, Steve."

"Yeah? Biggest you ever had? God, tell me it's the biggest you've ever took."

"Shit" you hiss, as he bottoms out inside you, yelping out as you both finally meet at the base. "Yeah, shit. No one's ever been that fuckin deep, Steve. Holy shit."

"Fuck, yeah. I'm gonna move now, okay? You're good, right?" And you nod, enthusiastically. Almost too enthusiastically.

You've known Steve almost your whole life. You've played on playground swing sets growing up, rolled your eyes at his antics at your friends' parties in high school, cheered him on at basketball games and worked alongside him as lifeguards at the country club pool. You give him shit, he gives it back to you. You share comfortable silences and close friends. He's had your back in the face of monsters and raging fires… But right now, all that's on your mind is how he's pounding into your pussy in this shower and why this has never ever happened before in all these years. Because Jesus Christ, it's feeling euphoric.

The slapping of skin echoes loudly in the wooden and metal enclosure of the shower, bodies slick with water , hands gliding along your back and along your ass, keeping that knee hiked high for him, yours clutching the front of his shoulders and digging crescent moons into his skin. He's making noises, has he thrusts up into you at a bruising pace, hitting your cervix and making you cry out…but he's holding back all the same and all you want is him to let go a little more.

"Fuck, wait. Holy shit. Lemme just… " you drop your leg down and hear his small whine as he slips out of you, but you're quick to flip your body around, leaning forward and bracing yourself on the beams of the wooden door frame, shaking your ass at him in an invitation to get close to you again. "Wait. Wait… " you gasp out as you feel his tip nudge against your entrance from behind.

"What's wrong? Are you .. are you okay? I can stop." He gets out through heaving breaths.

"No. I'm good… but if you wanna finish me off, you gotta do one thing for me." Looking over your shoulder, giving him a playful but serious look.

"What'dya need. Honey. Anything. What do you want?" He holds his cock, pulsing and screaming to be let back inside your warm and velvety walls, dots of precome rinsed off by the droplets of water as fast as they emerge.

"Don't hold back. Just… .let me hear you. I wanna hear you. Talk to me. Don't shut up. And fuck - fuck me harder" you hiccup out.

"Yeah, yeah okay. I'll … I'll - fuck" he pushes in fully in one slide, no resistance from you in the least. "You wanna hear how good you make me feel huh? Always so cocky. Jesus."

His fingers are pressing into the tops of your thighs, purple mottled marks already blooming there under his fingertips as he pulls you backwards, spearing you on his cock, meeting him thrust for thrust. His other hand is wrapped around your waist, reaching for the soft of your belly, snaking up your chest until he finds your tits, nipples peaked with the chill of the air now that you're not directly under the stream of water. He runs his thumb along your nipples, giving them a playful flick back and forth before massaging them and pulling you up to meet him, back to chest.

In this position, you can drop yourself down as you meet his upward thrusts, bouncing on his cock and you feel his tip nudging a particular spot inside you that makes your walls constrict. "Oh honey, yeah? That's it. That's the spot isn't it?" And you can tell that has Steve's mind going off the deep end, making good on his promises to let you hear him, he's babbling, water splashing and raining down on you both, his grunts getting louder, and your name slipping off his lips in a whisper, like it belongs there.

Reaching back and around his neck, you turn so that you can see him and tilt his down to meet your gaze. Mouths both open, panting into one another, lips touching but never connecting because you can't quite sync up with the way you're both grinding on each other. "Jesus Christ, hnng fuck, I'm gonna… honey. Where do you want me? C'mon. Tell me."

You hear his sharp intake of a breath and feel his lips latch on to your throat, leaving sloppy kisses and sucking a bruise into it that you know you'll have to explain to your friends later. "Nnn-no. No. Not yet. I told you, lemme hear you. You're holding back I can tell."

"Oh-okay yeah. Gimme a sec. " He breathes through his nose taking in the scent of whatever vanilla soap you were using before he barreled in, maybe a little coconut still left over from your sunscreen, too. He exhales as his hand drifts down your front, settling over your mound and expertly finding your clit once again. He's rubbing figure eights, before sliding it between his two fingers, giving it pressure and pull from the sides as he continues to thrust into you from behind, bouncing you with very little effort because of how wet and slick you are from the shower.

"You're a fuckin' piece of work, you know that. Shit - taking me like this… fuck. " He growls out as he bends you forward fully now, holding you up by your chest as he rams into you. Leaning over just enough to get close to your ear he whispers in "Ya gonna let me come now? Fuck - ya gonna let me put it on your back? Huh? Your tits? Where do you wanna have it, honey?" He hisses as you grind your hips backwards and clench down hard on his shaft, squeezing on him and making his thrusts slow down, become more meticulous, more purposeful.

You're gasping in air and squeaking out noises of all kinds in time with his thrusts, telling him just how good he's making you feel between breaths. Just how deep he is hitting you. Just how much you wanna hear him when he comes. He's huffing out breaths and promising you things like next time as he's incoherently babbling praises at you as you ride back on his dick.

"You like when I talk about coming for you? You wanna have it, yeah?"

"Y-yeah I wanna. Inside. Do it inside, fuck!" You shout out, water from the showerhead beating on your back as his thrusts are jolting you forward where you're braced against the door. The janky little rusted metal latch holding on for dear life as he continues his pace, chasing his high and praying to God you let go with him.

He's feeling bold now that his brain is only chasing your orgasms. He groans the loudest moan you've heard from him this whole time as you feel him tense behind you, keeping up his movements but, just barely. His hips are stuttering and his hand falls down on your ass in a loud smack. "Ohhh shit. Honey. Yeah. That's what I'm talking about."

Your walls give him one last squeeze and you grip him tight, legs shaking under you as your orgasms rushes over your whole body. He has to hold you up as it rolls through your body, flashes going off behind your eyes as you cry out with pleasure. The pain from the smack to your ass being washed away with the cool of the water trickling over you.

It takes him only three firm thrusts more to fill you up, stuttering sounds falling from his lips. Incoherent blabbers and praises and gasps of your name spurting out along with his come.

You're both absolutely breathless, heaving chests and deep sighs filling the air while still connected to one another. Steve pulls you up slowly as he slips out of you, and spins you around. Still cradling your body and wrapping you into him, he pulls you both under the water to rinse off and come back down from wherever you both are floating off to right now. As you stand there swaying under the cascade, he brings his lips to your temple with a kiss as he mutters "I did mean it. I love seeing you here every year."

You hum along with him, because you do love seeing him too. You just never thought about it like this before. And now that you have, you're pretty sure it's the only way you can from here on out.

"We should probably get back down to the beach. I'm sure at least one of those nosey dipshits have noticed were both missing by now." Steve says against your skin.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. But you are the one explaining these marks you left on me. I'm not saying a peep."

"Aw, c'mon sweetheart. You had a lot to say when I was in-"

"Stop that right now. If you wanna even think about doing this again, you're gonna stop right now." You roll your eyes at him while wrapping yourself with a towel and unlatching the door. As you back out and start up towards the house to grab a new swimsuit, he sees the grin on your face.

"Yeah, okay honey. Shutting my mouth now...so I'll definitely see ya later, then." He says with a wink, just as the door shuts and your left naked, wrapped up in Steve Harrington's towel with all your friends gathered round the grill out back making lunch watching you as you make your way around the path.

Eddie snarls a wide grin at you as he brings both thumbs up, his wife slapping his chest when she notices. "Hey Nance!" He yells out. "I think Harrington's got himself a new roommate for next trip!"

[bloodwrittenletters]

YOU SAID 'forever' AND I ALMOST BOUGHT IT

pairing . . . percy jackson x fem!mortal!reader

the cassette playing . . . i miss you, i'm sorry! gracie abrams

the letter reads . . . you loved your boyfriend, but maybe he didn't love you enough to stay— or to say the whole truth.

warnings . . . cursing (just a bit), ANGST, some comedic relief (very tiny).

a/n . . . soooo......... long time no see!! i was thinking of making headcanons out of this but settled for a fic, and i'm thinking maybe doing a part 2????? i dunno, i guess we'll see 😁 also, I just recently discovered jellycats and THEY ARE SO CUTE?? I need one in my life.

many months ago, in the epitome of heart aches of many, your love had been given to a boy with a pained soul with your first kiss. it was percy's sixteen birthday, just after the battle of Manhattan had ended— one that you along with many others had thought it was an attack to the Empire State Building, and he was hurt. you knew he had been involved in some way, he was the one you woke up to be holding you, he was the one who wet your cheeks with his own tears.

you didn't ask about it, didn't question it, just as soon as you could form a logical thought— you were holding him to your heart.

percy and you have been neighbors since you both were thirteen, after his mom and him had moved into the apartment just bellow yours. the friendship blossomed when after some kids from his school decided that it was funny to terrorize him at home, too. and his crush on you had started when you showed with a umbrella ready to chase them off one hit at the time.

the rest of your relationship went down with soft touches, pinning from both sides, and sweet notes during his time at home— which wasn't a lot due to his time in his all holy super camp.

still, the both of you had cherished the little moments you two could share together. and in his sixteen birthday, you decided to seal the deal by gifting him your first kiss.

after long talks, a lot of reassurance for percy's wounded heart, and many excuses, it happened. four whole months of plain love and happiness, with little sides of bits of truths he could offer you.

'my family is... messy, so messy. i can't even tell you about it,' he said once. and you understood and promised to wait until he could spill the beans.

that was, until he disappeared from the face of the earth.

you fell asleep in his arm after playing Moana for him, and the next morning, there was nothing but a peacock feather tangled into your hair. like it was some fucking joke. no lover. no percy was at the scene.

for the next week, you were livid, searching through every street in new york you could get past through.

until annabeth chase, percy's bestie 2# and someone who you couldn't decide if you wanted to be friends or run for your life from, and grover underwood, percy's bestie 1# took over the case.

you were left in his room, wearing his hoodie and crying into his pillow until you passed out. you and his mom held yourselves together— at least that was what it seemed for an outsider.

your heart was irreparable, months started to pass and there was no signs from him. dreams that once gave you a sweet relief started to turn sour and not even in the darkest time of the day you were able to escape the pain.

one month, two, three... it seemed endless, and soon you were left with nothing but the memories of him. since the tears you had shred for him had washed away the smell of him from his clothes, and your lips couldn't remember how sweet his mouth was.

percy jackson was gone.

four months, five, and six, and there was only anger bottling up inside you. more and more.

"come back to me," you cried, hugging the jellycat penguin named percy you had bought for him— the same one he so gently loved and used every night. the habit to buy him more and more stayed with you, but that one was his favorite. and over the course of the months, it had been your comfort for when you wanted to hug him, but oh! you couldn't.

"just... please, come back to me, perce, i don't want to do this without you."

the endless nights of sleep turned into nights of overthinking. maybe if i held him tighter, maybe if i kissed him more, maybe if i told him i loved him—

maybe percy would still be here.

you buried yourself deeper and deeper in that pit of hell.

it was another shitty day of crying, missing, and cursing in the jackson house from your part when the phone rang. paul and sally had left you in the apartment to study. the house was silent but your head was full, of pain, of hope, of aching.

"i'm going!" like the person calling would even hear, you pulled yourself from percy's bed, dragging the blue bunny stuffy you had named mar for the last 18th with you, groaning at the sun hitting your eyes after an ocean flowed from your eyes.

"hi?"

silence.

"anyone there? is this just some stupid prank?"

it wasn't. percy was on the other line doing his best to not pass out. gods, he had missed you so much...

"i'm going to hang up if you don't talk soon—"

"hi, baby... i miss you."

[victoria-grimesss]

Price Headcanons ~SFW & NSFW~

masterlist ->Paring: Captain John Price x F!Reader ->Warning: fluff, romance, smut down below >:) ->A/N: MDNI! I've had some of these floating around my head and had to write them down.

SFW:

This man needs a vacation, he needs to sit on the beach and drink a little something with an umbrella vacation.

I imagine even if he went on vacation, he would be the "feel free to text me if anything comes up I'm just a flight away" kinda guy. Please someone make him relax.

He's a romantic guy for sure, will kiss you on the hand and bring you flowers without asking.

When you go out to eat he will open the car door, the restaurant door, and pull out the chair for you because the woman he loves will NOT be touching a door. He gives you a wink once he tucks your chair in.

When he's home, especially right after he gets back he loves nothing more than to sit side by side and read your books together, make him a good cup of tea and he's sending heart eyes your way.

His favorite way to sleep is with you right on top of him. Out on the job he sleeps with his gear on, so he's become accustomed to having a weight on his chest when he sleeps, he feels uneasy without it. But when you lay onto of him like that he's out like a light.

He gets nightmares frequently, if you're a light sleeper he apologizes for waking you up but you never complain and for that he cannot repay you. If you're a heavy sleeper and you don't wake up he'll calm his beating heart and find comfort in your scent and soft breaths. Sometimes he wants to talk about it sometimes he doesn't, it depends on the severity and if he wants to plague you with it. At times he just wants to lay with you in his arms, he's safe at home with you, his boys are safe at their homes, everything is okay.

He's built a steady routine over the years, part of that routine is waking up ten minutes before he's supposed to so he can admire you when you sleep and hold you close to his bare chest, he loves these mornings.

He trusts you with his life, and with that he'll let you trim up his beard, a barber botched it once and Gaz laughed at him, so he said you're the only other person allowed to do it now.

He definitely falls asleep when watching TV and when you try to change it he'll wake up and say he's watching it.

One time you washed his hat without telling him and he panicked like when you lose your wallet. You had to pre-soak his hat twice to get it semi-normal.

I imagine him as a good cook but a shit baker. He gets frustrated when he tried to follow a cake recipe for your birthday and can't find the recipe under the person's life story. He went to the store and bought one then wrote your name on it.

He loves it when he can show off how strong he is, sometimes you'll pretend you can't open a jar just so he can crack his knuckles and "show you how its done".

He's over the moon if you ask him to show you how to fish, even more elated if you offer it as a date idea.

He loves to sit at the counter and listen to you talk about your day. He's a sucker about your voice and could listen to you talk about literally anything.

He calls you on his way back to base and talks to you on the drive home, makes the drive go faster.

He starts ring shopping 2 months after you two started dating, he knew you were the one.

He almost threw up when he proposed, he was so fucking nervous but the night went perfectly.

Definitely carried you through the door of your shared place when you got married, he's old fashioned like that.

His dad jokes are out of this world awful, but you laugh at them even if it hurts, because you love him.

Loves to have the team over to watch sport matches, when you were house shopping he always referenced about having them over when the two of you would view the living room.

When the two of you are out he puts a hand on the small of you back to guide you through crowds.

NSFW:

His stamina is impressive, he's an older guy but he can go for rounds and those rounds are heavy and sweaty.

Alot of things you do turn him on, kiss him on the spot where his neck meets his head, touch his knee and move you hand slowly up, tell him how much you missed him, tell him he looks good in that shirt, wear that shirt, really anything you do turns the man on.

John Price loves to love you through and through this man is a giver.

He will kiss you from ankle all the way up, muttering about how good you looked today and how much he was thinking about getting you out of these clothes.

Not possessive but more protective. Your relationship is built on mutual respect for one another, although there is a trend between the times when you get a little more attention from other guys and when he absolutely fucks your brains out. He denies it the next morning.

He uses his voice to his advantage. He purrs in your ear hours before he undresses you, light light touches and honeyed words butter you up to the point you're begging for him to take your clothes off. "You need me this bad love? Desperate girl." He wears a devilish smile.

Certified pussy eating master and I stand by that. That man can go forever between your thighs, his eyes roll to the back of his head when he first licks you, you'll have to pry him away beard soaked with evidence of his skills.

Good with his hands too, he angles then just the right way to find your G-spot, all while saying the dirtiest things just so he can feel you clench around his fingers. "You like that, fuck look at you dripping down my hand."

He loves when you grip his arms when he drives himself into you, you leave nail marks and he gets off on it. That you're feeling so good from what he's doing to you that you have to hold on that tight.

Favorite positions would be missionary, cowgirl, or anything where he can look you in the eyes so he can see your reaction when he slides it in so agonizingly slow.

Loves it when you ride him, front facing so he can see you cum. He makes you wear his hat for sure. And when it dips too low in front of your eyes he'll stop all movement just to fix it. "There's my pretty girl." He grinds into you to start again.

You guys fucked in his car once and he loved it, couldn't do it again though. His back hurt too much the next day.

Guilty pleasure is hotel sex. The both of you get a nice big room at a fancy hotel, have sex in clean white sheets making a mess of the newly made bed, he fucks you in the bed, the shower, the desk, over the dresser, and against the wall, afterwards you two order all you can eat room service.

He loves getting blowjobs when he smokes, something about the combination of the two make his head dizzy in a wonderful way.

Heavy on safe-words and making sure you feel the best you can when you two have sex, always checking in on you but in the most seductive ways as to not lose the mood.

Price loves to praise you, before during and after he's telling you how good you're doing and how beautiful you look taking him so well.

Most of the time he asks you where he should cum, he just likes hearing you say it, it gets him off harder.

Aftercare!! John is big on it, he'll take you to the bathroom and you'll have a bath together or shower, he'll give you extra time when he leaves so he can change the bedding and put on a sweet movie.

If your muscles ache he'll take a body oil or lotion and gets those knots out with those expert hands, he prefers it when you're naked for these massage sessions, easier to get all your sore spots he says.

More than half the time this result in another session and neither of you are complaining.

---

peepaw for the win!!!

[oracle-of-dream]

Stress Relief

Minors DNI

Summary: You've been away on a business trip that's making you miserable. Wonwoo has just the thing to make you both feel better...

Warnings: Male reader, Business worker reader, Fluffy hair Wonwoo, Jerking off, Filming, Phone sex, Wonwoo is so perf

Wordcount: 1.2k

You let out a heavy sigh as you closed the door to your hotel room. Today was the worst.

You were out of town on a business trip for a few days, which was pretty normal. But the irritating part was that your boss was up your ass about the details, bearing down on every single little thing you messed up on.

You didn't greet the client right

You didn't offer them something to drink

You should've held the door for them

You didn’t offer your umbrella since it was raining (Letting you get soaked)

You could hear your boss' voice grating in your ears, dreading tomorrow as you did. But worst of all, you missed your boyfriend, Wonwoo. He's extremely self-sufficient, so he doesn't check in with you to see how you're doing until the end of the day when you call him. You knew he was trying to be respectful and not distract you while you worked, but maybe a little distraction was needed from the disaster of a day you had...

You changed into your pajamas as you called him.

"Hey, baby!" Wonwoo's deep voice rolled through the speaker.

"Woowie!" You cheered in a babyish voice, feeling the responsibility of being an adult lifted off your shoulders. Wonwoo always loved taking care of you and letting you do whatever you wanted, even if that meant you got a little spoiled because of it. He couldn't care less.

"How was your day?"

Your expression soured instantly as you thought about that day you'd had. "It was super bad! I hate it here!"

Wonwoo chuckled at you pouting. "Don't be like that. Go on and tell me all about it, I'm listening." There was some shuffling from Wonwoo, probably him getting into bed... You talked to him about your day, every detail your boss picked at you for–even critiquing your boss sometimes. Wonwoo silently listened to you, occasionally throwing in an "mhm" or a grunt to let you know he was still listening as you ranted. Some of them sounded more like moans, and you felt your cock twitch at hearing it. By the end, you'd tired yourself out and melted into the bed as Wonwoo spoke, "Jeez, baby, I'm sorry he gave you such a tough time."

"I know right!? He's so unbelievable." You heard another grunt from Wonwoo while you spoke, this one was more audible, making you trip on your words. "A-Are you alright?"

"Huh, no, yeah, I'm fine. It's just my game," Wonwoo assured you. "Please keep talking," His voice was a little hoarse this time and his tone was almost begging. You told him what you'd had for lunch and dinner, skipping over that you'd missed breakfast. "That sounds so good, baby," Wonwoo moaned.

You squirmed in the bed, turned on by the base of his voice. "I don't know what to talk about anymore... What game are you playing?"

Wonwoo was caught off guard by your question, strangely stumbling to answer. "It's–um, a new release. You wouldn't know it. Fuck..."

"Well tell me about it anyway, I know you like sharing." You listened closely as you could barely register him breathing heavily.

"Sharing. Right," your boyfriend's voice shook. "I-It's–um... A platformer, the ones where you need to jump from place," Wonwoo's voice caught in his throat.

"And?" You added.

Wonwoo whined, "More?"

"Yeah, keep telling me!" You closed your eyes as you listened to him closely, your hand sliding under your covers to rub your member.

"Well–it's just, I-I don't know..."

"Is the game hard?"

"It's so hard..."

"Well, I know you can do it. You're such a smart boy." Wonwoo groaned again, enjoying your praise. "Is the game long?"

"It's pretty long..."

"And are you going fast or slow?"

"...slow at first. Faster now."

"You think you can go faster?" You touched yourself to his words. Long strokes, starting slow but getting faster, squeezing your shaft hard.

"I-If you want me to."

"I like it fast," You say as a moan slips past your lips. You bite down on your tongue to stop more from coming out as you notice Wonwoo's gotten quiet. "Are you still there?"

"I-I'll be right back!" Wonwoo blurted out before hanging up. You blinked at your phone in shock. He hung up!? You immediately called him back but instantly got sent to voicemail. You sat in bed, stunned at him. Did you push him too far with the tease? You thought it was a weird cute mutual thing...

After a few minutes, you started getting ready for bed and turned off the lights. As you checked your messages, you had one from Wonwoo, with a video.

"Sorry I hung up, I was making this for you. You mentioned wanting a video like this a while back, but it was embarrassing."

You played the video. Wonwoo was wearing his glasses and a plain white shirt, at his desk in his office at home. He awkwardly looked at the camera as he set his phone down and answered your phone call from before. You could hear your voice from the phone, but your eyes were glued to Wonwoo as he stared into the camera. Slowly, to make as little noise as possible, he lifted his shirt to his lips and held it with his teeth, showing his abs. Then he slid down his pants just enough for his cock to pop out. He started pinching his nipples and jerking off to you as he listened to you. His face was pink, his nipples hard, and his dick leaked in the prettiest way. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he stroked faster and harder, right when you asked about his game. When you called him "smart boy" he almost fell out of his chair, ripping his hands off his cock so he didn't finish.

He didn't stop for long.

Hand now attached to his cock again, "It's pretty long." Wonwoo's strokes moved his full length. "...Slow at first, faster now." Wonwoo's hand worked himself over so fast his body started shaking. You could hear the slight sound of his hand with precum around his member.

His body glistened, his shirt stretched as he tried not to moan louder, and his hair stuck to his forehead as sweat dripped onto his stomach. When you asked him to go faster, Wonwoo's fucked out expression as he looked at the camera told you everything. He was gonna blow.

"I-I'll be right back!" He blurted out. As soon as he hung up, he stood so his cock was above the table and finished. His cock shot ropes, making a mess of the table, his phone, and even shooting onto the camera lens. Through the blurry video, you saw Wonwoo collapse into the chair as he tried to catch his breath. "I... love you, baby," He whispered as he wiped the lens clean, giving you an up-close look at him. "Come home soon, I miss you." He smiled goofily and turned off the camera, ending the video.

You texted immediately, "Wonwoo!?"

"Yeah?"

"This was so fucking hot. I need another."

"I tried recording it on my own. But it was so hard to cum, without hearing you..." You imagined Wonwoo's expression when he texted that, probably covering his face in embarrassment.

"When I get home, we're fucking. End of story."

"Okay, babe."

You watched the video again, jerking off until you were satisfied. As you drifted off to sleep, you wondered how you could repay him...

[satorusugurugurl]

Chilling by the pool + sukuna plz🙏🙏

Holiday!

Summary: Marie’s Summer Fest prompt: chillin’ by the pool

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna (Modern!AU) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: language, smut, pool-sex, thigh grinding, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink

Word Count: 1,895

A/N: the modern!Sukuna AU is a secret weakness of mine. I love writing for these characters. There’s just something about them that makes my heart flutter! (all of the modern!sukuna prompts on my blog are in the same universe)

When Sukuna told you he wanted to go on a vacation with you, and only you, you had been too stunned to speak. Normally, if you went on a trip with him, his younger brothers Yuuji and Choso tagged along, but this time, sharing a room with two queen-sized beds and one bathroom to share. So when he told you he wanted to go on a vacation, and you started looking at cheap hotel deals with two queens, Sukuna looked at you as if you had lost your ever-loving mind before snatching your phone.

“I ain't taking no brats this fuckn’ time.”

This is how you found yourself in an Air BnB, just you and Sukuna in Kyoto. Not having Choso and Yuuji around was strange, making your time with your boyfriend nice and quiet, which both of you needed. You floated in the pool your home away from home had to offer and grinned at your snoring boyfriend. His sunglasses were on, one hand resting behind his head while the other rested on his stomach underneath the umbrella.

He needed the rest; he worked so hard for his brothers; as long as he was in the shade and had sunscreen on, there was no reason to bother him. You shut your eyes and drifted to sleep, waking up about an hour later when you felt yourself drifting under some shade that hadn’t been there before.

Sukuna had tugged his chair and umbrella closer to the pool, bringing him closer to his bratty girlfriend. When you glanced at his chair, you were met with your tattooed boyfriend's face, his sunglasses pushed up against his head as he huffed. Without a single word, Sukuna leaned over his chair, eyes glued on you as you drifted closer towards him.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to float over here?”

“I don't know how long were you waiting?”

“Too fucking long.” Sukuna rose his sunglasses off, jumping into the water. You squeal as the water hitch your warm skin with a chill. Sitting up slightly, you try to follow Sukuna with your eyes, seeing nothing but a dark shadow passing underneath you.

You felt like a shark was stalking you. One that was starved, and you, well, you were its meal. Amid your thoughts, you missed your boyfriend swimming underneath your raft. The only clue you got that he was underneath you was when your raft was tilted to the side, causing you to fall into the water.

The crystal clear water was perfect, cooling down your skin. Bubbles tickled you as you breached the surface and turned around, searching for your boyfriend. Toned, tattooed, muscular arms wrapped around you, pulling you towards the pool wall, slamming you against it. The impact didn’t hurt, but your boyfriend's hungry, feral look does things for you!

You gasped as Sukuna’s lips found your sensitive ear, licking and sucking on them while his knee slid between your legs, pressing against your throbbing core. He nibbled on your earlobe teeth, grazing over it and making you scream his name. Thank God your pool was a private one because you were phoning, grinding, and crying out against your boyfriend as if you were in heat.

“H-Holy fuck, Kuna, what—?”

“Shut up,” he stated, tilting his head to the side, sharp canine digging into the crook of your neck. “Just relax. Let me have some fun.”

“Oh, I will. I just do—oooh—nngh!” Sukuna removed his knee from between your legs, opting to tug your bottoms down, letting them float away. “Kuna~”

“I need to be inside of you.” his hand slipped further down to his swim trunks, pulling them down enough to free his thick cock. “And I’m gonna take you now because I don’t have anyone stopping me from fucking you right here right now,” Sukuna growled softly, wrapping you up in his arms as soon as you both were bare from the bottom down. "Mmm, fuck, this feels good."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his hips. "I love the water," you whispered, looking into his crimson eyes. “But I love you more, fuck I'm so glad you booked this.” His teeth nipped at your neck with a snarl.

He rocked gently against you, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder. "Lately, I’ve been finding it really hard to relax. I figured we could use a well-deserved break.” Humming in agreement, you nodded before rubbing your hands down his back.

"You work so hard, Kuna; you deserve to relax.”

He pulled back to stare at you. "You make it easy, Kitten. Easy when it comes to taking care of my kid brothers and when it comes to relaxing.”

Hearing those words, leave his mouth while his cock is grinding against you, and you are rocking back against him, eager for more. "I'm so glad I can help you feel relaxed and carry some of the weight for you; I love you, and god, you deserve the world, Kuna~."

"You are the sweetest girl on this planet, Kitten; ~" His hand trailed up to your breast, pushing the wet swim top up, teasing your soft skin. “But I already have the world when I’m with you.”

"Ah~" You bit her lip; your body was on fire with need, "Kuna~ will you fuck me, please?" You scratched your nails down his back. "I-I need you—god, I need you so bad."

"Oh, are you a desperate little slut now, Kitten, huh?" He groped you roughly, enjoying your body slowly, taking in your beautiful, soft skin.

"Mhmm, I'm your little slut~ I fuckin’ love you-" Sukuna grunted as you rolled hips rocked against him again, a little harder this time.

Sukuna turned, pushing you harder against the tile wall before leaning on and whispering in your ear. "You're such a good girl~ You're such a slut, a whore, just for me, right Kitten?~" He purred, teeth nipping at your earlobe again.

“Yes!”

“Good to know.” He forced his leg between yours, moving his knee up and settling you on his thigh. "But I'm not ready to fuck you just yet. Grind on me." He ordered with a soft growl.

You blushed, feeling a tad bit shy at first. Before remembering all the places, he had fuckrd you before. A closet, Gojo’s room, the tattoo shop. This would be a piece of cake. "O-Okay—" you mustered your assertiveness before grinding down on his leg. "S-Suku~" you rolled your puds tantalizingly slow.

“Yeah, baby.” Sukuna groaned softly, gently bringing his thigh a little higher for you, pressing it harder. "That's a good Kitten, getting yourself off on me; keep it up~."

Your face was flushed, cried out. "L-Like this," you asked, rocking a bit faster with a whimper, eyes shyly meeting your boyfriend's starved gaze.

He leaned in, kissing your neck before biting down on the soft, overly sensitive skin. "You're mine~"

"A-Ah~!" Your body rocked a bit faster over his tattooed thigh. "P-Please Kuna~ I-I'm yours, fuck, please t-take me!”

Hearing the desperation in your voice made Sukuna quickly remove his leg. You didn’t even have a chance to complain about the absence of his leg for long before that empty spot was quickly taken up by his hips. Sukuna’s cock rubbed against your folds. "Yeah, you want me to take you, Kitten? Want me to make you mine in every way I can?"

"Y-Yes! P-Please Kuna, oh fuck, please take me." You were utterly desperate and in need of him and his thick, long, pierced cock. "I'd do anything for it."

"Good girl ~" He purred before thrusting into you, not stopping until he was fully buried inside you. "Oh, Fuck—!!"

You yelped, tightening around his thick throbbing cock as he slammed into you. "Ooooh fuck me~"

“Kitten~!” He growled, looking right into beautiful eyes before setting a harsh, deep, slow pace. He was focused on every thrust, the way his thick cock dragged against your walls. How your walls tried to pull him deeper inside of you. “Fuck, kitten—You have the perfect fuckin’ body!”

You whimpered and whined, your nails digging deeper into his back. "I-I love you~!” your declaration of love, the feeling of you wrapped around him in the stinging pain of your nails and his back, had Sukuna panting heavily against your skin. God, he wanted you to be his. Every fucking inch of you. He moaned, the water starting to splash against the walls and your skin as he picked up the pace fucking you ruthlessly.

“I love you too, Kitten~ O-Ohhh fuck-I’m gonna get you pregnant~"

Having children was something you had never discussed about before. How marriage wasn’t even talked about. But your boyfriend was already imagining you swollen with his child. You’re so good with his brothers. He could only imagine what a fantastic mother you were going to turn out to be. There wasn’t a chance that you would even get pregnant right now with the IUD you had. So, for the time being, it would just be a fantasy.

A fantasy that you could get behind. "Mmmm, god, I want that, Kuna~ I want your babies~ I'll be a good mommy—!!”

He growled, his hands gripping your hips almost painfully. "Fuck—fuck—fuck!! Y-Yeah, you’ll be such a good mom to our kids!!” He snarled, rutting harder against you. “Yeah, you wanna be stuffed with my kids, huh? Is that what you want, baby?"

"Nnngh fuck!! Yes, Sukuna—p-please stuff me~ I-l aggh—fuck~! I-I'm so close, please~!!"

The water was making Sukuna feel a certain kind of way like he was high and drunk at the same time. But that was just the effect you had on him. Your pink-haired boyfriend was cumming before he noticed. Not wanting to leave you hanging, he reached down, rubbing your clit desperately.

“F-Fuck! Fuuck yes! Yes, yes, yes!! Cum for me!”

Feeling his cum filling you and the stimulation he provided to your clit since you tumbled over the edge, falling into your delicious orgasm. As you came around his cock Sukuna pressed his lips against yours, the lingering taste of rum and Coke on his tongue as he slowly thrust into you, working you down from your high. Sukuna hummed against your lips, scoffing as he pulled back to look at your fucked out expression.

“Good thing we aren’t at a hotel because I’m pretty sure the neighbors two miles down the beach could hear you screaming my name.”

“Like I give a shit.” you sighed contentedly as Sukuna held you against the wall. “Kuna—”

“Hmm?”

“I do love you.”

Your boyfriend grinned pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Mmm, I know Kitten, me too.” He loved you so much part of him was hoping that maybe just maybe he did knock you up.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

Summer Fest Tag List:

@typicalife-101

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 2)

In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.

+++

“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.

She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.

“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”

“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn��t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

Prose Masterlist

[maybe-a-dinosaur]

matsukawa issei one of those guys that just walks in the rain. no umbrella no raincoat not even a hood motherfucker just gets wet. it’s not because he forgets to check the weather he is fully cognizant that it is raining he just accepts his fate and steps out the door into the downpour. he leaves a trail of water behind him when he walks inside and wrings out his shirt like a cartoon character his shoes squelch when he walks he has to empty them in the sink his hair is Dripping he shakes his head like a dog his splash zone has a 6 foot radius.

no one understand him his mother won’t let him sit on the couch she’s like what the fuck kid if you get water on the rug one more time you’re sleeping in the rain. oikawa is unimpressed “it’s your funeral” asks issei if he’s thought about investing in a lifejacket. takahiro insists that drowning is “so this year” and issei looks “chic” when he’s shivering. iwaizumi walks beside him on the sidewalk under his own umbrella he does not offer to share issei does not ask there is mutual respect. he doesn’t jump in puddles or anything like that’s too childish or whatever but he Refuses to wear appropriate rain attire he would rather be damp and uncomfortable than inconvenienced.

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑠

Summary: Being the director and also a single mum of 462818 people at the same time, being shown in Y/N. Y/L/N's newest Instagram post with some special guest

A/N: I really enjoy making these Instagram AU posts, and you will see my inner gremlin appearing lol and İ'll make a second and even third part for it!

Liked by benbarnes, jacktwolfe, aarontaylorjohnson and 5,897,476 others

Y/N Y/L/N: Did they force me to take them on a train ride? Yes. Did I loose a bet? Also yes. So, as a result, I'm broke now. Please start a campaign and funds.🤭🤗

Also, don't let Jack's innocence fool you, that man is a real life Wylan and is a menace to society. He ate 15 burgers. Fuck you 🖕😑

View 623,325 comments

User1: I love how Y/n is the sugar mommy of the cast djskdjsj

User2: The way she is trully the mom apart from being the director. They are like a family 🥰

Y/N: A family that uses me... Cruel, cruel kids. Look at their smiles! They know what they are doing 🥲

freddycarter1: you made us walk under extreme hot weather and left us to die in a desert! It's only fair 😌

Y/N: Shut up Kazzle Dazzle, and eat your burger! And I gave you umbrellas, ıt's enough.

Sab.Memes: Jack ate 15 burgers?! *Chokes on water* HOW CAN HE DO THAT?!

User4: I feel bad for Y/N, she earns money through them and still spend it for them 😂

Y/NFanforever23: She knows guys, she know the power the fans have!

Y/N: I watched people start campaign and cancelling celebrities, ending their whole life. FAN SUPREMACY IS THE ONLY TRUE POWER!! 🫡

Liked by benbarnes, shadowandbone, freddycarter1 and 3,789,968 others

Y/N Y/L/N: Here is a warning: I'm everywhere and I see all of you... Please keep doing God's work by making memes🤭

1. There is a reason why I chose Ben as Darkling, only one reason: He is the ultimate CEO of puppy eyes... A good way to manipulate people because I fell for it. And Leigh and I fought very hard for them to accept him already.

2. Apart from the fact that he killed innocents, manipulated kids and offered one to the Royal family, used many people and created the Fold alonsgide other War crimes... It seems my job is over *drops the mic and leaves the stage to go and write the New script,crying*

3. Real applause for Alina because I would have folded and accepted immediately.

P.S: Ben is getting ready to defend Darkling in his Insta story while avoiding me... And laying over my lap and making me play with his hair.

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kittheyounger: When exactly are you going to stop sharing memes of us?

Y/N: Never? You should be grateful I'm not sharing every one of your's fetus photos and the ones I took to blackmail you later :)

archierenaux3: Couldn't be me hehe

Y/N: Keep living in your dreams :) @archierenaux3

User7: She is so real for the third slide 🤣

User9: Ben is so babygirl for her I can't-

User3: The way Y/N just terrorizes the entire cast with those childhood photos is too funny to me 😂

User6: That's some Queen behaviour... another day another slay from Y/N 💯

User1: She is known to have a talent for taking photos when no one sees and notices her so... For all we know, she could take photos of us and we still wouldn't know.

User5: And she only annoys the male cast members... 😌🤔I wonder why she doesn't do the same with others?

Y/N: They are my little babies and precious wives, they could do no wrong 🥰

Benbarnes: Talk about favouritism... And I'm her boyfriend.

Y/N: And they are my wives, so? 🤗

Liked by benbarnes, tchalamet, lilyjcollins, kit.connor and 6,243,125 others

Y/N Y/L/N: Oh, the amount of chaos here... *Sips wine* 🤭🍷

P.S: He came to me crying and asking what was wrong with the fans... I said he was so hot for his own good and now, he refuses to meet my eye because he blushes too much... Sir, you are 41 not 15! Either way, what a cutie 😌🤭

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benbarnes: you promised to not share these!

Y/N: Haven't you learnt nothing is safe with me?

BenandY/N.mommy: I CANT- Y/N IS FEEDING US AND I LIVE FOR IT

User5: Poor Shadow Daddy... Show us more.🫣

User3: The cast once said that Ben blushes the most when Y/N is near or the one who compliments him... My heart can't take it!

User6: I want what they have! ❤️

User3: They both had become so good to each other, especially Y/N... Seeing my baby happy makes me cry tears of joy 🥹

User6: I hope they will get married already! We need little Y/L/N- Barnes in our lives 🥲

User4: When can I get a Y/N or Ben in my life?

User2: And just like that, I'm scared for what's waiting for us and Matthias in SaB season 3...

User1: ıf people doesn't know... Y/N is very good at drama and slicing our hearts and squeezing it painfully with her emotional scenes and talent for shooting those scenes just... Diferrently.

User3: We are doomed... Like girl, who hurt you that much?

Y/N: Trauma, tears, sadness and more trauma are what's waiting for yall probably... Sorry🫣 And I love watching and reading heartwrenching things in general, no one hurt me so don't come at Ben😄😇

benbarnes: Thanks love... Your fans scare me...

User1: Suddenly, ıt's a need to see Kaz and Monopoly together

Y/N: You wouldn't want that... Freddie gets too absorbed in his character and we thought it was a good idea to do this... It didn't turn out well

User5: The way Ben is scared of Y/N's fanbase is very funny... *Evil laugh* Sir, you are dating our girl, millions are after your ass as soon as we see a tear on her pretty face 🙎🔪

Liked by benbarnes, kittheyounger, amitasuman_, freddycarter1 and 10,895,675 others

Y/N Y/L/N: This cast had become my everything, all these amazing people changed me in the best way possible and I'm grateful to have met them. I'm known to always share funny things but today, I wanted to show my love and appreciation. I'm thankful for accepting the offer to direct and also take a role in this amazing job. Thank you for inspiring me to be a better version of myself, thank you for changing my life for the better and thank you for trusting me. shadowandbone :)

Thank you for the backstage workers who always gossipped with me and did their very best and made me fangirl at their job

Thank you for convincing me and holding a gun to my temple to accept this job and also writing this amazing book universe @lbardugo 🫡❤️ I'm hoping to talk to you soon again!

But the biggest thank you is for my dear boyfriend @BenBarnes. Thank you for always supporting me and loving me. Thank you for holding me when I needed, trusting me when I didn't and lifting me up with your dad jokes and thank you for being you. I'm the most grateful for you, and that won't change. I love you and your goofy personality even though you ate my last cookie 🥲❤️

Oh and a final note? These people and these pictures? Let the Fold take me :) shadowandbone

shadowandbone: A toast for the best director ever! We are glad to have someone like you! And there is no way out of the Fold :)

User6: The way she always includes everyone, down until the very last person in backstage is... Her heart is so amazing and her soul is so pure🥹

User2: You just know that they all love her so much.. Thank you for accepting and thank you for bringing our dream book to life Y/N 🥹

lbardugo: I wouldn't want anyone except you to this! You have so much potential and I was at ease knowing that the show was in good hands... Love you so much and İ'll eagerly wait for your other projects 🥹🥰 And I'm waiting for that meeting to, love! Just don't forget to spend time with Ben, he sulks like a puppy later 😂

Y/N: Thank you so much... OMG I'm crying at all the sweet messages now but you can be sure I'll spend all my time with him!

amitasuman_: We love you, Y/N! You are the best and thank you for always making sure we were fine and comfortable! Now, I'm off to cry🥹

Jessie_mei_li: Thank you for being you! I wouldn't have gotten a bestfriend like you if you hadn't accept!❤️ Thank you for assembling all of us, Queen of Fantasy!

freddycarter1: and also accidently adopt all of us in some ways...

User5: the whole Shadow and Bone cast looking at their director with heart eyes are making me jdkshdqkvwu🥰💞❤️😍🥺

User4: YEAH, THEY ARE SO LOVELY WITH EACH OTHER! BUT! Have you seen how Ben looks at her? I have been manifesting a man like hım over a decade now...

User1: Do you think she saw that fifth slide on Ben's Insta??

User4: Definetly! I wonder what her reaction was like...

Y/N: I was a Darklina hater my whole life until Jessie and Ben ruined it for me and made me just turn a blind eye... I regret making them shoot that scene but also not.

User2: OMG SHE ANSWERED

User1: she always does, another reason to live, laugh and love Y/N. Hı, Y/N!

Y/N: Hi, love! And btw yes, that video woke something in me... Which payed off iykyk 🤭

User6: when I learnt the whole cast, mainly Ben, was begging her to make a Marauders series is just... Wow... I hope she does that, she is the only one who could pull that!

User1: Remember when she said she would break the Net when the time comes? Might be it, who knows?🤔

User3: She also said she wasn't letting any of the cast go like that and had plans for every one of them... And that they were her slaves and had to do anything she told them lol

User4: People trust her with book adaptation because she always stays loyal to it, while also adding something from herself. It's normal everyone wants her to work on every book adaptation possible

User2: I wonder who she prefers the most: Kaz or Darkling?🤔

User5: Ben is her boyfriend so I think she would say Darkling because he would pout otherwise

User6: But she also said she often giggled and blushed while reading Kaz's point of view and specifically begged Freddy to audition

Y/N: The true question is: Are you a fan of terrifying blue eyes or deep, empty black eyes?

benbarnes: I'm forever lucky and grateful to have met you and be your boyfriend. I can never be proud enough of you since you have a habit of always exceeding yourself. I'll always be by your side through thick and thin, just as you do every day. You are my beautiful and succesfull girlfriend, my rock when I need you, my bestfriend when I need a good laugh and my other half and there is no enough words to explain my feelings but I'll stick to this one: I love you always. liked by Y/N Y/L/N

User1: And that's how you get away with eating a lady's last cookie 😂

User3: I'm not crying ıt's just their love in my eyes that stings 🥹

User5: I swear there is nothing I want more than see them getting married 😭

[alovelyfrenchworld]

Zayne: Glittering Lights

SoftDom!Zayne Headcanons:

TW: swearing, dom/sub mention

He definitely walked into the cafe on purpose, knowing you were alone

Yes, he poked fun at you for it, but it wasn't out of pity that he sat with you

He hates the thought of you being lonely and wanted to join you to remedy that (it was also an excuse to check in on you without seeming too invested)

THIS MAN knows your eyes narrow when you're pretending to be happy...THIS MAN pays attention to every detail of you

not in a weird, creepy way, but in a "he cares" way - he knows when you put up a facade for the sake of others and he wants you to be honest and open with him always, even if he doesn't like what you have to say

I don't necessarily think you guys are dating just yet at this point, but Zayne is definitely putting his foot out there

Calling you out for lying? This man's dom foot is halfway into your door - he wants you to be honest, as I've said, and he wants to offer you comfort

Whether friends or dating. Zayne will always want you walk you home

He's seen you fight, he knows you can handle your own but he knows how scummy the world is and would rather not let a young, maritally single female (who just so happens to be his friend) out alone at night. Don't argue with him on it either, he's gonna walk you home anyway

He appreciates any odd conversation starters you bring up

Many people give up on trying to break past his cold demeanor, so in a way, he appreciates that you always try with him. It makes him feel like he matters

He shares that he has overworked himself in the past as a way to open up to you. He wants you to learn from his mistakes so he doesn't see you run yourself ragged. He's definitely the type of doctor that would start prescribing sleeping pills to regulate your schedule if he realized you've fucked it up with overworking. He would probably write a note saying you needed to be on work restrictions (probably designated to office work only) until further notice. He knows how valuable work can be, but he also knows what the body needs is more important

You weren't "too noisy" at the hospital...yes, you talk significantly more than him, but he hates seeing you come in. As your physician, he knows that when he sees your name on his list of appointments, it's bad. Seeing you hurt makes him hurt. He's already worried about your heart on a daily basis, he doesn't want to have to worry about anything else (he will anyway)

He doesn't pull you by the collar hard, but just enough to keep you in place

His more "dom" side, I suppose I would say, comes out when he wants to keep you close. Especially, at a time like this when you're cold and unprepared for the weather. Truthfully, he would've just given you the umbrella and let himself freeze, but he knew you would've just given it back. He just wants you to be comfortable

The minute or so you were gone getting the latte scared the shit out of him

He loves your random gestures, they make him feel wanted, but for half a second he thought you'd been kidnapped or you'd fallen somewhere and he hadn't seen. He doesn't blame you for going off and doing things, he just puts it on himself to stay on guard and feels guilty when he doesn't pay attention

CAT AND MOUSE was invented by this man

He likes the chase, he like the teasing

He's not overtly emotional, but when he's feeling playful, you know

He likes using his height ot his advantage "to see you frustrated"...

he would never do anything that actually pisses you off, he respects your boundaries, but he does like games

Kitty Cards are fun, but seeing you trying to get something raised a foot above you or trying to get out of his grasp when he has a hold of your coat sleeve is honestly funny to him

He likes the chase and he likes to keep you on your toes

Zayne's favorite thing about it is seeing the smile it brings to your face

[jujutsutrash]

(the best of a) simple thing

sort of a follow up to (don't look) but I want it, tho more of a prequel Pairing: Yuta x reader Word count: 2723 Warning: some slight mentions of nsfw stuff but mostly ok

When you walked into his apartment - and effectively into his life - Yuta never imagined he’d become so hooked on you. You had seemed like a bad company, like clear trouble. But you’d found him through a mutual friend, so he let it slide. He needed a roommate, and the worst that could happen would be having to kick you out. Or so he thought.

He never thought he’d become obsessed with you.

Well, obsessed is a strong word. Heavily infatuated could do. You plagued his mind constantly, and just your presence was enough to have him red in the face. Yuta thought that it was just a sexual thing, over time it would fade. It didn’t. And sharing an apartment with you, getting to know you, only made it worse. On one hand he’d be jerking off furiously to the thought of you, on the other he’d be aching to do the most domestic type of shit.

One thing he found himself desiring pretty quickly was to see you dressed in one of his clothes. It was hot, yeah, but it also felt cute as fuck. Sure, he didn’t tower over you, but his oversized shirts would still look bigger than your frame. To Yuta, the thought alone was enough to have his heart leaping - and his cock hardening - in less than a second.

Though, he never thought that would actually happen. Until it did. The first time he got a chance to see you in one of his clothes was on a rare day that he was going from college straight to your shared apartment. It was a day off, and he had plans for it, until it started raining out of the nothing while he was still in class. When it came time to leave, the rain had turned heavy, water falling from the sky with rage and bringing a cold wind with it. Yuta considered himself lucky for always having an umbrella lost somewhere in his bag.

To his surprise, when he came to the arched entrance of the college building, he saw you, looking into the rainy street with a desolate expression. It was rare for him to see you at campus, the buildings where the visual arts students had their classes couldn’t be further from his own. Slowly, he walked up to you, coming to stand by your side as he watched your expression.

“You forgot you your umbrella again?”

You almost jumped by his side, and Yuta couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. He muttered a sorry when you looked back at him, eyes burning with anger. Even that was cute. Looking at you now, he also couldn’t help noticing how you had your hands rubbing your arms, body closing in tight on itself. You were dressed in just a tshirt and jeans, clearly not expecting to get cold any time soon.

“Yeah,” you respond with a pout, “this is ridiculous, it was sunny when I left home!”

“The weather changes a lot around this time of the year,” he adds with a shrug, pulling the umbrella from inside his backpack. “I can give you a ride if you want?”

“Don’t you have to go to the office?”

“Nah, got a day off today, I was heading home anyway,” Yuta says with a smile, watching as your face lights up at the offer, his heart warming up at the sight. 

“Oh, shit, Yuta, thank you so much. You are a lifesaver,” you smile, and he can feel the blush that’s creeping its way on his face.

“Don’t need to thank me, really, I’m just glad to help,” he responds in a gentle tone, voice growing more concerned as he looks over you again. “Are you cold?”

“A little, I really wasn’t expecting this.”

“Well, I,” he pauses, unsure if he should stay what he is thinking before he decides to go for it anyway. “I can give you my hoodie, so you don’t have to walk back while cold.”

Yuta looks over you, hand tugging at the fabric of the white hoodie he was wearing. He is pretty sure he is blushing, but he can’t focus on that right now. On one hand, you were cold, and he really just wanted to help. But on the other, well he is pretty sure that if you accept, he is gonna have the image of you in that hoodie burned into his mind forever.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, you are gonna feel cold,” you shake your head, chuckling as you wave one hand in front of your face.

“I’m not that cold anyway, it’s fine really,” he insists, looking into your eyes with a warm smile.

You hesitate for a second, but then you nod, muttering a thanks when he places his backpack and umbrella on the floor. Yuta reaches a hand to his back, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his hoodie as he starts pulling it off. When he wrangles himself off of it, he passes it to you with one hand, the other fighting to readjust his hair.

He watches you smile and put it on, his heart skipping a beat at the sight. The shoulders of the hoodie seem a little loose on your frame, the end of the sleeves just about reaching your fingers. Yuta wasn’t that much bigger than you, but yeah, this was good enough. The walk to your apartment would be short, but he caught himself wondering if maybe he’d be lucky, and by the end of it his hoodie would smell like you.

When you look back up at him, he quickly averts your eyes, busying himself with picking up his backpack and umbrella, getting ready to leave. You two walk and chat, shoulders touching as you share the protection of Yuta’s old umbrella. He is almost sad when the walk ends. The minute he is inside his room, hoodie back in his hands, he brings the piece of clothing to his nose. Under the faint notes of his cologne, he finds it, the sweet smell of your body lotion. He’d for sure be sleeping with that hoodie tonight.

The second time Yuta got a chance to see you wearing one of his clothes was when you’d taken him with you to that bar you loved so much - Devilock, you called it. From the outside the place looked like a shady, hole in the wall type of bar, from the inside it looked just better enough to be sanitary. Truth be told, Yuta had never been one to frequent those places. Between the loud noise and his aversion for social situations, it felt like too much. Yet, he couldn’t say no when you invited him.

The punkest thing he could muster from his wardrobe was a beaten up plaid button up thrown open over a black shirt and some dark jeans. Compared to you, he was a normie, but that was the best he could do. Though, your presence made him feel a little less awkward when you entered the place. The bar wasn’t utterly packed, but it was full, and that was already enough stress, so Yuta would take whatever little solace he could get.

Still, there was a silver lining to this all - aside from the amount of people in the bar counter, forcing you two to sit side by side, shoulders pressed against each other. No, the silver lining was that he got to watch you, free and at ease in your own element, dancing in a skin tight shirt and jeans shorts. Yuta could endure the awkwardness he felt from not knowing how to dance if he got to see you like that.

Shit, you were too hot, and as you both returned to the bar he still couldn’t stop staring, even as you downed another drink, droplets of the cocktail spilling past your lip and down your neck. Maybe the alcohol helped you not notice his wondering eyes, but the bartender sure caught his stares. From behind the counter, the tall, long haired man looked like serious trouble, especially as his black locks shadowed those fox eyes when he leaned menacingly forward. Okay, that was enough to make Yuta look away, for now. Near the end of the night, however, something else happened that had butterflies working up a hurricane in his stomach.

“Yuta!”

When you cried out for him, he could already recognize something off in your voice. You’d both found your way to the arcade machines in the bar at that point, and Yuta felt a little more in his territory this way. Though, you had gone to get a drink for yourself, and it was really off putting to have you return with worry in your voice.

“Hey,” Yuta responded, calling out your name as he turned around. “Everything ok?”

“Ah, mostly,” you chuckled. “But I think my shirt snagged in someone’ jacket and one of the straps torn,” you gave another awkward chuckle and Yuta’s eyes went straight from your own to the hand tightening the knot holding your shirt strap together - the other hand clutching a beer.

“Shit,” he stuttered, torn between the desire to help and the desire to just see the thing fall. “People should really be more careful, they could have hurt you.”

“It’s ok, really, it’s just an inconvenience,” you laughed softly, placing your beer on top of the arcade machine you were. “Tho’, I think I might have to inconvenience you now.”

“Y-yes, whatever you need,” it was almost shameful how fast Yuta responded, he knew it, but he just couldn’t help but jump at the idea of you needing him in any way.

“Could you lend me your shirt? I’m not sure how safe this knot is,” you chuckled.

Yuta froze for a moment at your words, voice muffled by the song playing. Though, he quickly snapped out of it, eager to see you in his shirt. He knew he should be more worried about you, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking as he was at that moment, but there was just something about seeing you in his clothes. Shit, he’d refuse to wash that shirt for the next few days.

Taking out the shirt in a rush as he nodded frantically, Yuta almost knocked down the beer bottle on top of the arcade machine, getting one arm pathetically stuck in the sleeve as he tugged it free. When he handed you the shirt, you thanked him, swiftly putting it on and buttoning it up. You looked gorgeous in it - as you did in absolutely anything, but there was a special charm to this particular sight. Fuck, he could feel his cock hardening already.

The rest of the night goes by uneventfully - although not exactly easily. Yuta had to spend the whole time fighting his own desires and the erection that threatened to sprung up and make things a lot more awkward. When you both finally get back home and return the shirt to his hands, he almost feels desolated. Almost, because the chance to sleep with a piece of clothing that smells like you again is enough to have him in high spirits.

The third time Yuta gets to see you in one of his clothes is in a more permanent situation. One he admits he lucked out on, a bold strike of fortune he will be forever thankful for. After you first moved in, you requested to share the space of his large office - the only spare room in the apartment. He agreed, obviously, he couldn’t say no to you, so he just let you set up your easel and materials in the office, but in the beginning it was awkward. Overtime, though, he grew comfortable in your presence - and learned to watch you paint from the occasional reflections on his monitor.

Besides, Yuta couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the sight of you working on your pieces. Although you could be a powerful distraction, sitting in front of your easel, wearing only small shorts and an old shirt - even this casual, you were gorgeous. At times, it was an exercise in self control, one he didn’t always win, forcing Yuta to take breaks from his work just to leave the room. Still, he wasn’t really complaining.

One day he catches you frowning while looking at the washing machine, browns pulled together and shoulders slumped. When he asks you what's wrong, you pull a torn up garment from inside the machine - from the gray color and paint stains he recognizes it as the remains of your old work shirt. As you mumble about needing to retire another t-shirt to put in its place, an idea crosses Yuta’s mind. 

He sees a chance, and he has to take it - or at least try to, while he is feeling brave enough for the task. Sure, if this goes right, you are going to become even more of a distraction than you already are, but fuck it if he cares right now. So as you sigh in frustration, he is quick to offer you to take one of his t-shirts, claiming he has an old one he was gonna start using as pajamas anyway. When you seem hesitant, he doesn't give you time, stepping into his room fast and bringing you a white oversized t-shirt that he places in your hands, insisting you take it.

“Yuta,” he glances at you through the reflection as you call for him, seeing you turn from the easel towards him, “you sure I can use this? It feels so nice, the paint is just gonna destroy it.”

Yuta feels beyond lucky that on the very next day, he'd already gotten to see you wearing his shirt. Though, it's posing a slight inconvenience as now he's having to try and answer you without fully turning his chair around - lest you notice something you shouldn't. He turns just enough to glance at you, body still turned to his screens, anything below the hips mostly covered by the blessed shadow of his desk. 

“I told you it's fine. Is it comfortable? If you like it, you can just keep it,” he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing. “This shirt is old, and it was nothing special to begin with.”

He lies straight through his teeth, the plain white shirt had been an expensive one - you'd probably just never know because he'd removed the tags long ago, they always pinched his skin. But he didn't mind that, not one bit, no price could pay for the sight before him. The oversized t-shirt went all the way down to just below your ass, covering a third of your thighs. Better yet, it almost swallowed your shorts, and from certain angles, it looked like you were wearing just the t-shirt. Wearing just his t-shirt. Yeah, he didn't mind the price tag.

You look into his eyes for a long second - a stare down Yuta is driven to win, despite the growing discomfort for every moment he had to spend holding his gaze into yours. But it was for a good cause, at least from the point of view of his own selfish desires. When you hum and look down, he holds his breath in anticipation. 

“Ah, it is really comfortable,” you trail off, glancing at him again before shrugging, Yuta finally letting go of the breath he was holding. “Guess if you say so, thanks Yuta, you are a lifesaver!”

You cheerfully thank him with a bright smile and a sweet chuckle, stretching your arms above your head before going back to work. Yuta can feel his face burning, and he can only hope it doesn't look as red as it feels. You are too sweet, too cute - and it's not helping at all the sick images running in the back of his mind. Oh, how he wanted to have you sprawled on his bed wearing only that shirt, oh the things he wanted to do.

Fuck, now he could feel his pants straining already. Just as he imagined, this was worse than before - though, it was still a price worth paying to see you in his shirt almost every day. If he could have it his way, you'd only wear his clothes around the apartment anyway.

[lyrenminth]

Over the rain

Rainy days in Oregon were common during October, and you loved it when you had your big cozy boyfriend in bed, spooning you from behind.

But that wasnt the case today. Justin was mad at you, and you were mad at him. Everything started when you offered and interview in a friend podcast and he got mad because your started talking about your relationship with him. You did not say anything controversial really, it was the contrary but since he was extremely private he got upset, and you were fed up with that.

"Are you really giving the cold shoulder because I said good things about our marriage in a podcast?" you asked, standing in front of him. He was red from anger and did not want to look at you. Justin's anger was silent. "You know it is not for that reason" he argued back, voice low. "I don't want people noses in my marriage"

"Really? What's wrong with sharing that I have a happy marriage?" you snapped, raising your voice. "If this is about your privacy, don't worry but as the wife in the relationship I have the right to share whatever I want"

"I don't want you talking about me in those podcasts" he replied, coldly.

You laughed, incredulous. "Ok, another thing?" he rolled his eyes at your sarcasm. "You can't tell me what I get to say or not" you argued, feeling sick.

"We decided to keep things private!" he said, raising a little bit his voice, something uncommon.

"And they are Justin! Nobody knows a thing about our relationship besides that we are married. It was a two minutes conversation and you are making me feel awful about it" you said, your voice sounding watery "If you don't want to talk about the marriage, why did you marry me?"

"You know is not about you" you shook your head at his words, and went upstairs "I'm not going to apologize for saying that I have a great and supportive husband, that's nuts. I need time off"

You went to the bedroom to cry alone, because the feeling was choking you. You understood he was a private person, you understood you had an agreement, but why did it hurt so much? You wanted to share your hapiness and he didn't like it. After forty minutes, you wanted to talk to someone. You changed your clothes and put on a raincoat, the weather was gloomy but it was safe to walk outside. Your mom's house was twenty minutes away, and a walk could help to clear your mind.

Happy with your decision, you went out. Justin was in the living room, catching tape on mute. When he saw your fit he raised his eyebrows, stealing a glance at the window, the cloud were gray and heavy. "Were are you going?"

"To talk about our marriage with the neighbor" you said, snappy. You felt bad instantly but couldn't backtrack.

"There is a storming coming, you shouldn't be out" he ignore your snarky comment.

You grabbed an umbrella and the keys. "It is ok, Justin" you assured him. "I will call you"

You leave the house, and during the first ten minutes the weather was ok, then it became a fucking storm.

*******************************************************************

Justin was worried. Very worried. He couldn't watch the tape or pay attention to anything that wasn't the storm outside. The wind was harsh and so the rain, he realized you didn't took the car and he got a little scared. He was a asshole for arguing with you over the podcast. It wasn't a popular podcast, and it was true you only talked about the marriage like four minutes but he got mad anyway. He remebered you sad face when you went upstairs, you were heartbroken.

He rubbed his eyebrow and called you again. Nothing. There must be something with the signals. Maybe you were at your mom's house, you must. He called your mom, then your dad, nobody answered. The desesperation he was feeling wasn't normal. Why he didn't stop you?

He didn't want to think in the worst scenario. You were to precious to him, he didn't want to lose you...to hurt you.

Tha rain was pouring so heavily he couldn't see anything two meters ahead. He but a hoodie on, and grabbed an umbrella and the truck keys. He hold his breath all the way to your mom's house, in the short walk from the car to the door he got wet. He rang the bell, several times until your mom, opened the door, surprised to see him

"Hi, is Y/N here?" he asked, anxious.

"Yes, get inside, I'm going to bring you something to dry yourself" she said. Justin went to the living room, and you were there. Sitting down, with a blanket over your legs, a mug between your hands, and your beutiful eyes looking at the T.V, they were a little bit red. You were crying. Your hair was darker as if wet. When he cleared his throat, your gaze fell on him, your eyes widening with surprise.

"Justin? What are you doing here?" you almost dropped your mug at the sight of you tall husband looking all tousled and damp.

"I want to see you're fine" he said.

"But...there is a storm outside. Did you drive here?" you asked, incredulous.

"Yes, I did" your mom appeared with sandals and a blanket for Justin who thank her politely.

"I'm going to leave you talk" she said, with a warm smile.

Your mom knew you and Justin discussed, but you never told her the reason. It was a private bussiness.

You were frozen in your place as he approached you.

"I'm sorry" he said. You held your breath. "I shouldn't have gotten angry. You-you can share your hapiness over our marriage, even though you aren't happy now" he sounded so sincere and regretful.

"It's ok" you eyes started getting watery. How much you loved this man was beyond explanation. "I'm not angry anymore" He sat next to you, and you put the mug over the tiny table near the couch. "You are my husband, I choose you" he closed his eyes, feeling the words hit.

"Thank you" he said, opening his green eyes, showing a glimpse of vulnerability he didn't show often. You hugged him, an without much words, everything was fine again. Because the things between Justin and you were simple, honest, raw.

[lavendersugarplum]

Why Ben’s Death Was Important.

These two TUA characters could've died earlier, and I would not care.

Now that The Umbrella Academy has come to an end with Season 4, I feel like it's the perfect time to share some of my thoughts on the characters, and one in particular—Jennifer. If Jennifer had been killed off at any point during the season, it honestly wouldn't have affected me in the slightest. I just couldn't bring myself to care about her character. Jennifer's presence throughout the series has been minimal at best; she's barely had any screen time or development, making it hard to connect with or invest in her story. In many ways, she felt like a character who was simply there to serve the needs of the plot, rather than someone we were meant to root for or even understand on a deeper level.

The show could have handled her just as they did with Harlan—abruptly writing her out without much of a send-off. Harlan, who was once an important character, was discarded with little fanfare when his role no longer fit into the narrative. But because Jennifer is more closely tied to the central plot and Sparrow Ben's storyline, the writers clearly felt she was too important to be cut off so easily. Despite her being integral to certain plot points, it felt like her character never truly got the attention or development needed to make her compelling. So, while her survival made sense for the overall narrative, it didn't do much to make her any more memorable or likable to me as a viewer. If they had killed her off from the start, then the show would basically be over. Happy Ending for everyone....except her.

Another character I would have had zero qualms about losing is Sparrow Ben. Especially him. I HATE this character with a passion. No one can ever replace Umbrella Ben in my eyes; he will always be the best Ben, the only valid Ben, and the one who truly mattered. Sparrow Ben, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. I wouldn't give two flying fucks if something terrible happened to him. 😭 From the moment he appeared on screen, it was clear that his character was meant to be unlikable—arrogant, self-centered, and constantly at odds with everyone around him. And while it seemed like the writers tried to soften him up in late end of Season 3, hoping to make him more sympathetic or relatable, it just didn't work for me. Any attempts to redeem Sparrow Ben fell flat, and he remained just as obnoxious as ever.

Frankly, I'm convinced that the only reason the Umbrellas kept him around was because he looked like their beloved Umbrella Ben. If it were up to me, I'd have left his ass somewhere along the way, probably "accidentally" letting him get swallowed up by the Kugelblitz or one of the many other apocalyptic threats they faced. The Umbrellas' insistence on keeping him around felt misguided; he's not their Ben, and he's made it painfully clear he doesn't want to be part of their found family. I kept thinking, "Just let him go! He's not your brother!" The whole dynamic was forced and uncomfortable, and it's hard not to blame him for a lot of what went wrong this season. The group's willingness to cling to this hollow version of their lost sibling only made things worse.

Because let's be real, most of the things in Season 4 can be traced back to Sparrow Ben's actions or his selfish decisions. If they had just left him behind earlier on, half the disasters they faced might never have happened. The Umbrellas should have cut their losses instead of trying to see something redeemable in a character who had no interest in being part of their story. To me, the only decent Sparrows were Sloane and Marcus—characters who, unlike Sparrow Ben, showed some sense of loyalty, vulnerability, and a willingness to grow. Sparrow Ben was just dead weight, a constant reminder of what the Umbrellas lost, without offering anything meaningful in return. He is a prime example to show how none of the Umbrella's are willing to just let go of some things and move on.

The entire series of The Umbrella Academy revolves around one central theme: the siblings' refusal to let go of the past and accept things as they are. They're constantly clinging to old traumas, memories, and regrets, unable to move forward. This is why Sparrow Ben's antagonistic personality is in a way important to the storyline. If he had been as loving, kind, and brotherly as Umbrella Ben, his role as the catalyst for the Umbrellas' downfall would have made no sense. Sparrow Ben's cold and selfish nature was a direct contrast to what the Umbrellas once had, highlighting just how much they were still trapped in the past, desperately trying to hold onto something that was long gone. So even though a lot of us might absolutely loathe this character, he role was a reminder that you can't recreate what you've lost, no matter how hard you try, and this refusal to accept that truth is what ultimately led the siblings down a destructive path.

Rewatching the series with this context makes Umbrella Ben's death feel even more important. On its own, his death is a heartbreaking and tragic moment, a sudden loss of a beloved character. But when viewed within the entire narrative arc of the series, it transforms from a purely sad event into something more complex—almost a bittersweet relief. I believe now that Ben's death was a subtle foreshadowing of how the story would ultimately end. It was a powerful hint at the series' overarching message about the necessity of letting go. Ben's journey was a microcosm of what every character needed to learn but often resisted—the painful but necessary act of moving on.

Ben was the first sibling to accept his fate, to realize that holding onto people, memories, and pain when it's time to let go is not only unhealthy but self-destructive. His decision to let go wasn't just about moving on from his own death; it was about ending his cycle of self-inflicted suffering. He recognized that by clinging to the past, he was only perpetuating his own misery. His final act of release allowed him to find peace, breaking the cycle and allowing his spirit to finally move forward. This stands in sharp contrast to the rest of the siblings, who repeatedly fall into the same patterns, unable to break free from their own personal demons.

To break the cycle, you must be willing to let go, just as Ben ultimately did.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Damn Lilies - Part 1

It's first date time between Grimm and Indigo. There's rain. And lilies. And lots of witty banter.

Oh, and Grimm is a total allergic bastard.

____________________________________

“That was some real red carpet shit, Indy.” Grimm reaches across the table, lays a hand atop Indigo's own. “But you don't have to impress me. I'm a cheap date.”

Indigo chuckles at Grimm's reference to the limousine . “Well, if one has the access to such things, why not make use of it?” 

Grimm smirks. “I’ll take you for a ride in my armored Suburban next time. Give ya a little Secret Service style.” 

The hand has taken to a lazy caress, something that Indigo normally would not tolerate, but the “kitchen incident” has blurred the lines between them.

“Hey.” Grimm's booted foot nudges his shoe. “Thanks again for the shoulder thing. Damn thing doesn't even hurt now.”

Indigo does not mention that sharing healing ability is a sure sign that their bond is, in fact, beginning to take hold, consummated or not.

The sky chooses the moment they step foot onto the sidewalk to relinquish its hold upon the apparent torrential downpour contained within the gray clouds and Indigo shields his forehead with one hand in an effort to save his vision from being obscured by water.

An arm loops through his own, securing him against the other man's side and Indigo finds himself escorted from the street before he can object.  The two of them huddle beneath the nearest canopy, the edges of Indigo's hair curling to wisps of ringlets with the intrusion of moisture.

"Wretched weather," Indigo says.  "One never knows if an umbrella is needed."

"Hmn, tell me about it."  Grimm has a short conversation with the hostess before turning back to Indigo. “Forty-five minute wait. Damn.” He flashes a smile to Indigo that is a pleasant, charming contrast to his chiseled features.  "Wanna do something a little less fancy? We can sit in the courtyard.  It’s covered and shit."

Despite his rather damp countenance, Indigo finds himself returning the smile before he can manage to suppress it.  "Yes, well.  I suppose that would do."  He glances up at the rumbling sky and frowns just a touch.  "Perhaps if we wait a moment or two, this mess will relent enough to grant us a drier passage."  

"It’s like fifty feet, Indy."  Grimm stiffens for a moment, expression collapsing into a vulnerable sort of desperation.  He ducks into the crook of his elbow and turns away from Indigo just enough to muffle a sudden “Hh’CHISSH!”  into the crook of his elbow. "Sorry."  He passes the back of his hand beneath his nose with a sniffle.  "Don't know what it is about rain and my damn sinuses."

"Well," Indigo says after offering him a mildly stated blessing.  “It is one of your more charming qualities." 

"Ha ha, you fucker."  Grimm offers him a crooked smile before glancing back towards the sidewalk.  "Come on.  Promise you won’t mess up your hair." 

Indigo's gaze is calm.  "Is that so?  Well."  He nods towards the slackening rain.  "I suppose this is as good a time as any, then.  Shall we make a run for it?"

Grimm arches an eyebrow.  "A run?  Indy, it’s seriously right there."

Such self-assured banter.  How strangely endearing it seems at this point.  Perhaps the barometric pressure has compressed his own common sense. 

Grimm steps aside to hold the gate open and Indigo suppresses a smile.  Casual chivalry is a most befitting quality, especially with this man, who seems trained in courtly mannerisms, yet rarely chooses to display it.  A fine treat, indeed. 

"Damn," Grimm says, one hand upon his now-growling stomach.  "Didn't realize I was that fucking hungry."  He pauses just before their appointed table, features slackening, and flinches into another “Hh’CHISSSHu!”

"Bless you," Indigo says.  "Might I suggest a bit of tea instead of wine?  You most certainly sound as if you could use it."

"Yeah?"  Grimm's stare travels the length of his body in a flash of appraisal and Indigo resists the urge to bite his bottom lip. “I'm not that wet."

Well, no.  Grimm is not soaked to the bone by any means, but the material of his dress shirt clinging to his chest in a manner that borders on obscene.  His every curve is highlighted by the pull of fabric, as if it has been painted on rather than merely worn.

Great gods. 

Grimm's attention is currently fixated not upon Indigo himself, but rather upon the rather ridiculous bouquet of lilies shoved into the crystal vase atop the outside table.  He would have to push the thing aside simply so that he could properly see Grimm's face.

Ridiculous decorative faux pas at best.

Grimm brushes a finger over the velvety yellow petal. “Hmmn, you allergic to these?”

“To lilies? No, actually.” Indigo ruffles the back of his hair in an unconscious gesture with just a hint of a laugh. “Difficult to believe, I know.”

“That's weird,” Grimm says. His lips curve into a nefarious smile. “Because I am.”

Indigo blinks. Sits up straighter. “What. . . did you say?”

“Yeah.” Grimm toys with the tip of one petal. “Hella allergic.”

“Grimm.” Indigo levels his stare at his deviously smirking companion. “If this is your idea of some manner of joke-”

“Hmn.” Grimm sits back in his chair, casually sips his water as if this is not a highly concerning development. “Guess you'll just have to see for yourself.”

Indigo certainly isn’t laughing, especially when Grimm brushes a finger beneath his eye and sniffles.

“Somethin’ wrong, Indy?” Grimm leans back in his chair, a pilfered petal between his fingers.

“Grimm, I swear to all of the gods . . .”  

“All of them?”  Grimm arches an eyebrow.  “Sounds excessive.” 

Indigo adjusts his glasses as he leans forward to touch a finger to Grimm’s glass of water, the liquid sizzling to vapor before frosting over to ice, the glass itself cracking down the center.  “You have yet to see excessive.” 

“All I’m seein’ is dramatic,” Grimm says. 

But he flicks Indigo’s fork off the table with a decisive ping just the same.

Indigo narrows his eyes.  “Did you just . . .”

“Yeah, I did.”  Grimm lays an arm on the table and leans closer.  “I ain’t afraid to flick your knife, either.”  

One silver eyebrow arches high.  “In public?”

Grimm stops salaciously groping the nearest lily for a moment.  “I’ll stroke your stamen, too.” 

Indigo’s tone and stare deadpan. “Floral fondling is not my particular predilection.” 

Grimm doesn’t just laugh.  He throws his head back and guffaws without concern for any attention such a thing might draw.  An admirable quality, if Indigo is being honest with himself.

That and his absurd ability to sneeze at the most inopportune of times.  Mid-laugh, perhaps.

"Again, bless you," Indigo says.  He props an arm on the table and glances at the man over the rims of his glasses.  "Should I spare you the sentiment or are you just going to keep at it?"

Grimm flashes him a crooked smile that is both disarming and cocky.  "Thanks. I think."  He cants his head to one side and strokes the fine mesh of hair that edges his chin.  "Anything else, smartass?"

"Not at the moment," Indigo says.

The smirk curves into a sharper angle as the man leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head.  "You're a real piece of work." 

Indigo allows his gaze to linger on the swell of Grimm's bicep through his shirt and follows the line of muscle down his torso.

Speak for yourself, he thinks.

"That's quite an impressive piece of art," Indigo says, nodding towards Grimm's exposed forearm.  "How long does something of that nature take?"

"The tatt?"  Grimm glances at his arm with a shrug.  "Forty hours maybe?  Not all at once, of course."  He pilfers Indigo's water without asking and takes a sip, winking at Indigo over the rim of the glass.  "Tattoo artist can't hold a machine that long."  

"Of course," Indigo says.  "I can imagine piercing that thick skin of yours takes more patience than one man can muster in a single session."

A hand lights upon his own and Indigo startles, flicking his gaze to where Grimm's meaty palm covers the tops his fingers.

"I enjoy this, you know," Grimm says.  "Us giving each other shit."  Golden brown eyes fix him with a pointed stare.  "I enjoy you. "  

Color threatens to rise in Indigo's fair skin, but he manages to quell the sensation with a soft clearing of his throat as he moves a finger beneath Grimm's hand in subtle reciprocation.

"I enjoy this as well," Indigo says.  "It's been quite some time since I--"  He pauses, doing his best to affect a bland stare as Grimm withdraws his hand and flinches into another sneeze with far less warning than before.  "Oh, bloody hell, Grimm."

"Heh, sorry."  Grimm rubs at his nose with a sniff.  "Damn lilies."

Indeed.

Their conversation turns to filling in the gaps of the past week, Indigo sharing the details of his trials with “book editing” and Grimm explaining the significance of the tattoo.

"So, knives, huh.” Grimm takes a bite of his steak and chews thoughtfully.  “How long you train for something like that?"

"Not long," Indigo says with a laugh.  "Just my entire life.” 

“Same,” Grimm says.  “But if you ask my dad, I was born for shooting shit.”

Indigo sips his water out of the far too fancy glass in which it had been delivered.  “And what of your hand-to-hand skills?”

"I’ve got ‘em."  One booted foot nudges his ankle.  "We should spar sometime." 

Indigo sets his glass down with a smirk.  "You think so?  I would so hate to embarrass you, Grimm." 

The other man snorts.  "Asshole."

Indigo chuckles.

They eat in silence for a moment, neither feeling the need to fill the void with conversation. Strange how Indigo had never noticed his level of comfort with Grimm until this moment.

“I gotta finish this damn tatt,” Grimm says at last.  “Just having linework here bothers me.” 

He tugs at the fabric for better access to his shoulder, runs his palm over his collarbone.  "See that shit? Looks weird just sitting there."

Indigo swallows.  Gods, the gesture is positively obscene somehow, even more so when yet another button pops open, which Grimm does not seem to notice.

Grimm’s lips curve into that self-satisfied smirk.  “See somethin’ you like, Indy?”

Indigo frowns. His concern, however, is not with Grimm’s teasing.  It is when that saucy grin dissolves into a hitching excuse for breath that he ceases to find humor in the situation. 

Grimms gaze becomes an unfocused, long-distance stare, his lips parting, eyes drifting to half-mast.

Oh. Oh gods.

"Uh'CHIISH!" A staggering inhalation. A helpless gasp.  "Uh--CHISSHu! . . . Hhuh'CHISSH!"

Indigo swallows past the lump of incredulity in his throat and manages the beginnings of a polite "bless you" before Grimm interrupts the sentiment with another sneeze.  And another.  

"Huh--CHISSH'u! . . . Hh'CHIISSH-uh! . . . Hhhuh . . !"  The corner of Grimm's lip curls into a snarl of desperation and he switches from ducking into the crook of his elbow to steepling both hands over his mouth and nose with a shuddering flinch of shoulders.  "Uh'CHISSHu! . . .Hkg'CHISSSH'u! . . . Huh . . ! Hhh . . !  -uhCHISSCH'iiuh!" 

A handkerchief.  He is definitely in dire need of one.  Indigo pats the front of his pants with a frown.  Where had he put the blasted----

At last, he remembers that he has the ability to actually conjure one and does so with a fumbling of fingers, nearly dropping it before he manages to hand it over to his still struggling companion.

"H-here," he says.  Stammers.  

For fuck's sake, Indigo.

"Thanks, Idii--iiih . . .!"  Grimm buries his nose in the half-folded cloth with a sharp, shuddering inhalation.  

"Hkgg'CHIISSSHu!"  He leaves the fabric clamped there for a moment before straightening with liquid sniffle and a roll of his shoulders.  "Well, damn."

Indigo blinks.  Well, isn't that just the understatement of the century.

"Bless you, Grimm!" he says after far too many heartbeats of hesitation.  "Are you quite finished, then?"

"Mmmm, dunno."  Grimm wipes at his nose with a sniffle.  "Hard to tell . . hheh . . .! Huuh . . .!"  He squints into the distance before the helpless slackening of his features reforms into a tired semblance of normality.  "Hnn, fuck."  

A trickle of sweat edges its way down the back of Indigo’s neck and he straightens into a rigid posture. 

The bastard.  The absolute bastard.  

This was more than purposeful, that’s what it was.  This was planned.  Surely it must be.  

But when Grimm wipes at a trail of allergic tears, the frantic turbulence of Indigo's hormones comes to an abrupt halt and his demeanor softens from cordial to concerned in a mere instant.

"Perhaps that is enough of your nonsense," he says.  He adjusts his glasses and tilts his head, eying Grimm over the rims.  "Despite your antics, you sound as if you are truly suffering."  

"I might be."  Grimm shrugs a shoulder.  "Doesn't matter, though." His expression switches to coy expectation.  “Not if it gets you off.”   

“Honestly–”

"I said what I said.”

"Hmn," Indigo says.  "Well, far be it for me to tell you what to do, Grimm--"

"But you will anyway," Grimm finishes with a smirk.  

“You shall regret your allergic mischief later,” Indigo assures him.

“Yeah?”  Grimm runs a booted foot up his trouser leg like a wandering, lascivious hand.  “Wanna borrow my handcuffs?”  

It is now Indigo’s turn to smile in a manner that is both chilling and sinful, a pale hint of blue fire encircling his own wrist.  “I prefer other methods.” 

Grimm runs a hand through his hair and smirks. “Kinky.”